


All the Wooing is Done

by pizarra



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Children, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Kid Fic, Kid Mordred, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Marriage of Convenience, Romance, Sexual Content, because i seriously hope not, is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:11:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pizarra/pseuds/pizarra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re refusing my hand in marriage! In what parallel universe is that not personal?!” From <a href="http://suddenlyprompts.tumblr.com/post/62437781331/youre-refusing-my-hand-in-marriage-in-what">this</a> prompt. </p><p>Merlin is a single father working for his uncle’s newspaper. Arthur is in line to be the youngest CEO with a father who wishes him married with the possibility of offsprings in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arthur's Proposal

“You’re running haggard again, Merlin,” Gaius is waiting for Merlin by his desk, his eyebrows going higher than is possible on a human being.

“I know, Gaius, I’m sorry. Mordred was acting up again. He hates all the overtime I do,” Merlin sighs.

“Look, boy, if only you would let me help you—“

“You are helping me; you’re letting me keep my day job.” He grins wide, hoping his uncle will let it go. And he’s not disappointed. Gaius just rolls his eyes at him, and walks slowly to the elevators which will take him back to his office. Once Merlin reaches his desk and turns on his laptop does he allow himself to think. He’s recently been taking on more assignments and his four-year-old son Mordred doesn’t like it. In fact, he has been having loud tantrums every day for the past week to let Merlin know that he’s displeased. But Merlin _needs_ the money. Mordred is getting older, his needs are getting bigger, and soon he’ll be starting school. It’s all very well for Gwen to take Mordred with her to the daycare where she teaches so that the child can learn his ABCs and other basics, but the kid will go to school at some point in the future. Merlin’s meager salary as a journalist is no longer enough for a growing kid like Mordred. Who’d have thought that children grow up so fast? His Uncle Gaius wants him to take over the company already, but he’s declined because he doesn’t want his career to be tainted with whispers of nepotism and inequity. He can start at the bottom and work his way up just like everyone else.

 “Merlin,” Gauis’s PA Carl breaks him out of his reverie, “Gaius needs you in his office.”

“Right, thanks.” Best get to work, then.

 

* * *

 

 

Arthur enters his office with a groan. Uther’s just been discharged from the hospital, and Morgana’s driving him back to his home. The lawyers had just finished informing him that the stipulations his father had given for Arthur to gain the company that’s rightfully his are inflexible and without loopholes. And what does he want? He wants Arthur to get married within half a year and, hopefully, have children in the near future.

Yup, the day before he was released from St. Bart’s, his father called him and Morgana into his private room, and told him, in no uncertain terms, that the time has come for Arthur to find someone and settle down. Uther doesn’t even care whether Arthur marries a man or a woman. The bottom line is that he’ll only sign off the company once Arthur’s married. In six months.

Apparently, Uther has grown tired of the seemingly endless stream of men and women in Arthur’s bed, and this is his way of drastically changing things, specifically, Arthur’s civil status. Arthur, on his part, thinks that it’s too much, and that Uther should be committed in a psychiatric facility somewhere. He had brought the subject of mental instability to the lawyers, but their law firm had had Uther checked out by a psychiatrist before they all signed the papers. He hates it, he hates his father for even thinking of it, and he hates Morgana for laughing her arse off when Uther was finished with his announcement. That old bastard. He should be locked up for emotional blackmail.

Arthur does have a choice: either get married and stay married for a year, or lose the company to his cousin Edwin. Arthur hates Edwin, that creep, and Uther’s not above using this particular knowledge to get what he wants. And Arthur, being a Pendragon, will not let his pride get in the way of duty. He knows the company, he’s been trained to take the helm since birth, and he deserves that damned position. Edwin, that lazy bastard, will lose everything Uther has worked hard for in a matter of _weeks_.

He leans in his chair, thinking up of solutions to his current predicament, because he has a perfect candidate in his mind, though it’s highly doubtful that person wants him back.

 

* * *

 

“Mordred! For the last time, you eat your food, you don’t throw it!” Merlin knows he’s shouting, and he is also aware that shouting is not the brightest way to reason with a child, but he’s had enough. He’s been holding his temper ever since he got home from the office, but Mordred insists on defying him on every little thing, including eating his dinner. “Mordred, please,” Merlin takes the spoon from his son, and scoops out some stew to feed to the boy, “just eat, please. I need to go out again. For work. And Mrs. Collins will be here any minute, alright?”

“B-but you just got here,” Mordred’s green eyes look wistful and sad and it makes Merlin want to throw his hands in the air and admit defeat. Admit that he hates Freya for taking off and leaving him with a baby; admit that he’s scared that he’s screwing up his own son; admit that he’s in way over his head.

“Look, Mordred—“

“But Daddy, you promised we’d play.” Mordred’s chin wobbles a bit, and he can see that his son is struggling to stop himself from crying.

“I know, but I have to work tonight.”

“But—“

A knock on the door stops both father and son. The knock comes again, and apparently, whoever it was isn’t just going to go away, so Merlin decides that he’d rather deal with the person at the door, than with a crying Mordred. It’s probably just Mrs. Collins from down the hall, anyway, coming to babysit Mordred while he’s out.

“Sorry, Mrs. Collins, if we’re running a bit late today, but a certain little boy—“ Merlin throws the door open to find…Arthur. He raises an eyebrow. “Arthur? What are you doing this side of the city?”

Arthur smiles, but the kind of smile that tells Merlin that his long-time friend has had a trying day. “Evening, Merlin. Mind if I come in?”

Merlin steps aside and closes the door. “What is it? Are you alright? Is it your father? Morgana?”

His friend laughs, and wipes a hand on his face, a sure sign of stress. That’s the exact same look that Arthur had whenever they studied for finals in university. “Yeah, I’m fine. My father’s fine. And last I heard, Morgana managed to convince Leon that they _need_ to take that holiday in Italy, so I’m pretty sure that my witch of a sister has never been better.”

“Uncle Arfur!” Mordred bounces into the room, and throws himself on one of Arthur’s legs.

“Hey, Mordred.” Arthur picks up Mordred and flicks a finger on the child’s shirt. “What’s this?” Mordred looks down, and flushes at the spots of stew on his shirt.

“Mordred’s been throwing his food around,” Merlin informs Arthur.

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “Is that right, Mordred?”

Instead of looking apologetic, Mordred points a finger at Merlin and exclaims at the top of his lungs, “Daddy’s leaving!”

Merlin grabs his hair in frustration. “Mordred! Not now!” he groans.

Arthur puts Mordred down and looks sternly at the boy. “Mordred, why don’t you go play in your room? I need to talk to your dad.”

Mordred nods solemnly, and rushes to his room. Merlin swears that there’s a hint of hero worship in his son’s eyes – as if he trusts Arthur to fight his battles for him and make Merlin stay.

Before Arthur can say anything, though, Merlin beats him to the punch. “Look, I have an interview tonight, and Mordred is in a snit because of it, okay? I’m already running late, as it is, and Mrs. Collins is _gonna be here any minute now_ , and Mordred’s still hasn’t taken his bath because he doesn’t want to eat his dinner like a _normal_ person, and—“

Arthur holds up a hand. “Wait, wait. You have an interview at this time of the night?”

“That’s what I said, Uncle Arfur!” comes Mordred’s muffled voice from inside his room.

“Mordred! What did I say about eavesdropping?” He looks at his friend again. “It’s with a dance instructor. She can only accommodate me after her classes are all done.” He glances at the clock, and seeing the time, rushes to grab his bag and phone from the coffee table. “Look, can you watch over Mordred for a minute? I need to get Mrs. Collins.”

Arthur beats him to the door, and holds a hand against it. “Why don’t I take care of Mordred until you come back? I need to talk with you anyway.”

“Uh…you’ve never babysat Mordred by yourself before.” And he hasn’t. Despite being a doting “uncle” to Mordred—buying his son too many presents, the biggest birthday cakes every year, and an annual trip to the carnival, by god—there’s always Morgana or Gwen to take on the heavier role of parenting Mordred, because he’s the ‘cool’ uncle as the blonde likes to brag.

His friend shrugs. “It’s only for an hour or two, right? And I’m sure Mordred will behave himself.”

“Yes!” Mordred shouts from his room.

“Mordred!” Honestly, that kid needs to learn his manners.

“I don’t like Mrs. Collins! She reads all the boring stories!”

Arthur, the prat, smirks, and leans away from the door. “Go.”

Merlin opens the door to find their usual babysitter about to knock. "Ah, Mrs. Collins, change of plans…”

 

* * *

 

It is almost midnight when Merlin walks through the door. Arthur is half sitting, half lying down on his couch (which the blonde complains as being ratty and lumpy), with Merlin’s copy of _Fahrenheit 451_ on his chest. He’s snoring slightly, and with his mouth open a bit to boot.

“Arthur.” He nudges the blonde’s foot with his own. “Arthur, c’mon, get up. Get your arse in the guest room.”

His friend blinks awake. “Mrrlin?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Get up. If you sleep on the couch tonight, you’ll regret it in the morning. Off to bed with you.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Merlin watches as Arthur groggily gets up and heads to the guest bedroom. He shakes his head, checks in on Mordred, then goes to bed himself. It doesn’t even feel like an hour when something huge and heavy landed on Merlin’s back.

“Daddy!”

He opens his eyes to see sunlight pouring through the gap in the curtains. Why do mornings come too fast?

“Daddy!”

Honestly, Mordred has too much energy and too much intelligence and too much… _everything_ for Merlin to handle. But he loves his son, and these are the moments that brighten up his world.

“Mordred,” he smiles, and immediately groans as his son uses his spine as a trampoline, “Mordred, Daddy’s awake.”

“Good! Uncle Arfur making breakfast!” Mordred runs out of the room.

“Morning, Merlin.”

“Arthur.” After a quick shower, he feels almost human again. He’s grateful that it’s the weekend and he can just spend some quality time with his son. He can revise his article later while Mordred’s taking his nap. He accepted the offered tea with a grunt of gratitude. “Thanks for watching over Mordred last night.”

“Hey, no problem.” Arthur, Merlin notices, had also taken a shower and is now wearing one of Merlin’s uni shirts and his dress pants from the night before. The blonde smiles and smartly slides a handful of bacon strips on the plate, then passes it on to the boy. “Here you are, Mordred.”

His son beams at Arthur, and the blonde replicates the gesture. Then, Arthur hands Merlin his own breakfast. They eat in silence, after a while, Merlin breaks it. “So, Arthur, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

“It can wait.”

Merlin frowns as Arthur just stares at his half-eaten plate. They stay like that for a while, until Mordred breaks the silence.

“Can we go to the park today, Daddy? Can we?”

“Sure, kiddo.” He ruffles his son’s hair, making Mordred grin.

“Uncle Arfur, you coming, right?”

This time, Arthur’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he says, “Not today, Mords. Perhaps next time.”

 

* * *

 

Arthur closes the door to his huge apartment with a groan. Yesterday, in his office, the plan had been simple and to the point. But this morning in Merlin’s apartment, it seemed like the dumbest idea he has ever had, and that was excluding most of his and Merlin’s epic (but quite unfortunate) adventures back in uni. So, he backed out because he’s an idiot as well as a pillock and he doesn’t even want to _imagine_ what his sister will say once she hears about this. Oh, and she will hear about it, because she has a way of getting information out of him despite him not wanting to divulge anything, and then she’ll gloat because she’s a grade-A witch who lives solely to torture him.

He turns the idea again in his mind, and still thinks it’s dumb, but serviceable. He gets to be married, and he gets to be married to the man he’s been secretly in love with _for ages_. He just needs to pluck his goddamned courage from _somewhere_ and actually get on with the asking.

 

* * *

 

Arthur’s in their usual booth in their usual pub waiting for his best mate to show his face. He’s invited Merlin out to dinner to ask him. He’s planned it perfectly: it’s a Friday, giving Merlin the entire weekend to think about his answer, and it’s evening, which means that Merlin has turned in his article to his editor Rob. Now, he just has to make sure that he doesn’t squirrel out of this. It’ll be easy—he’s presented ideas and contracts and reports to businessmen before and he’s come out authoritative and the perfect business prodigy. It’s only Merlin, for fuck’s sake.

Speak of the devil. His idiot of a best mate just entered the pub, and by the looks of it, he looks like hell warmed over. Suddenly, his good, dumb idea seems like it’s too much to ask.

“So,” and Merlin smiles that idiot smile of his, the one where his eyes crinkle at the corners, and hints of dimples show on his cheeks. They place their orders, and Arthur plays with the hot sauce. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“I…” he gulps. This is harder than presenting slides and spreadsheets. “I, um, I need your help.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow. “Of course, you don’t even have to ask. What is it?”

“I need you to…marry me.”

Silence.

Morgana may say a lot of things about him, but he’s not a coward, so he holds Merlin’s gaze as the other man stares at him.

“I’m sorry, did you just say you need me to…”

“Marry me. Yes, Merlin, I said I need you to marry me. I’ve known you’re an idiot, but shall I include deaf as well?” he snaps. Merlin frowns, but ignores his outburst. And really, Arthur already realizes that he’s the one who needs a favour and antagonizing the man who can help him is not, in fact, going to help him in any way.

Still. Merlin raises an eyebrow, a move that Arthur swears is directly off Gaius’s book. “May I ask why?”

And finally, _finally_ , they can get on with the reason why Arthur just made a fool of himself in front of his best friend, and perhaps even put their friendship on the line. The truth spills. But not everything. Not the secret that Arthur has stowed in the deepest caverns of his heart. He still has a bit of dignity—he is a Pendragon after all.

The waitress comes with their food as soon as Arthur stops talking, as if written on a script, but he doesn’t mind. He’s not going to call attention to the reason why Merlin is sitting quietly (for once) and not bashing Arthur’s head in with the napkin holder.

“I’ve tried talking to my father, tried to make him see sense as to why this is such a terrible, _terrible_ , idea, but he won’t budge.” He explains, rather weakly, even to his own ears.

“And this…Edwin…?”

“No.” Steel has entered Arthur’s voice, and he’s not going to apologize because, “Edwin is a spoilt, arrogant child, and he knows nothing of this business. He’d waste away the money, and the company will go bankrupt even before my father recuperates. No, I will not hand over Pendragon Industries to that arse. My employees deserve better than that.”

“Arthur, don’t you think you’re just,” Merlin does quick, jerky movements with his hands that make Arthur wonder if it was a rude gesture, “exaggerating? A bit, yeah?”

“I’ve talked to the lawyers. It’s iron-clad. Either I get up and get hitched or I lose the company. And you’re my best mate, and the only one I can actually ask.” He sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and gathers enough nerve to look Merlin straight in the eye. Again. “It’ll only be a year, and I swear, we’ll get divorced as soon as the company is completely mine. You’ll still your freedom, and I won’t impose on you other than to ask you to move in with me. So, will you marry me?”

“No.”

Arthur is not an idiot, and he knows that in asking Merlin, he risks the possibility of being denied. But still, hearing the word ‘no’ makes the rejection more tangible, yet surreal, both at the same time. He slowly—as slowly as he can so that Merlin won’t notice—sucks in a breath to calm his rampaging heartbeat.

“No,” Arthur repeats, because he never realized that he’s a masochist until now, and there’s also the likelihood that Merlin made a mistake and he really meant ‘yes.’

Merlin shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Arthur, but I can’t. It’s nothing personal.”

“You’re refusing my hand in marriage! In what parallel universe is that not personal?!” Arthur shouted, and he’s thankful that the pub is always noisy during the weekend as it lessened the degree of his outburst a bit, but his eruption spurred Merlin into a fit.

“Oh, I’m sorry, _your highness_ , but have you ever thought of _my son_?!” Merlin hisses. “It might not seem like such a big deal for someone of your stature, Arthur, but Mordred is a _living, breathing, thinking human being_ , and he’s going to ask questions, and he needs stability! Furthermore, Mordred and I don’t exist just to be pawns in one of your stupid, corporate tests of will with your father, in the emotionally-constipated connection you call a father-and-son relationship!

I’m sorry, Arthur, but you know I’d help you if we were still in university, but we’re not. And we can’t just do this and expect no repercussions the next morning other than a few hours in jail.” And with that, Merlin stands up.

Arthur can’t let it go, and he knows he should, but he’s a stubborn bastard. “Just…think about it, please. I wouldn’t ask if I weren’t desperate.” And he closes his eyes until he’s certain that Merlin is out of the pub.


	2. Merlin’s Acceptance (Of course, he accepts. Did you think otherwise?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, as reported by Morgana, has been running Pendragon Industries by day, and looking for loopholes in the contract by night. For two weeks? Merlin has to commend Arthur’s dedication.

It’s been two weeks since Arthur proposed to him (more like commanded, really), and they haven’t talked since. Merlin knows that he’s done nothing wrong by refusing the offer (order), but he feels guilty that he hasn’t talked to his best mate in weeks. So, here he is, on another Friday, riding the elevator up to Arthur’s office.

He’s left Mordred with Morgana and Leon, and the couple didn’t complain, especially after hearing that Merlin’s planning on going to Arthur. Arthur, as reported by Morgana, has been running Pendragon Industries by day, and looking for loopholes in the contract by night. For two weeks? Merlin has to commend Arthur’s dedication.

The PAs on Uther and Arthur’s floor watch him warily as he takes the familiar path to Arthur’s office, a dead giveaway that Arthur has been an insufferable prat for the last couple of weeks. Merlin is 6 feet away from Arthur’s office when Arthur’s PA, George, blocks his way.

“Mr. Emrys,” George breathes, “thank god you’re here.” Yup, Arthur’s been in one of his moods. “Though I wouldn’t advise you to go in there, we’d be glad of your…assistance.”

Merlin looks around the cubicles and there’s a sea of hopeful faces, nodding their agreement to George’s words.

He nods, “It’s gonna be alright, George.” The PA breathes a sigh of relief, though Merlin doubts his own words. But Merlin’s stubborn, and if Arthur’s being a monster to his staff, then Merlin’s the man to get him out of his mood.

Merlin walks into Arthur’s room without knocking (a sure way to get a rise out of Arthur), closes the door shut, and sits down on one of the chairs facing Arthur’s desk. Arthur sees him, then looks away.

“What are you doing here, Merlin?” Tone clipped. So, he’s still angry.

“Inviting you to the pub, that’s what.”

“I can’t right now, okay? I’m busy.”

“Oh, is that what they call it nowadays? I thought you only sit in that chair all day looking important. Come on, get your fat arse off that chair, and let’s go. Lance and the gang are waiting.”

Arthur wipes a hand on his face, and Merlin can tell he’s exhausted. The blonde barely even noticed that he’d just been called ‘fat.’ And his tone is even more drained. “Look, I’m really busy, Merlin. And I…” Arthur pauses, and looks at him. The blonde has deep circles underneath his eyes and he looks like he’s half dead. “…I’m really sorry for springing this on you.”

Merlin smiles. “Arthur, it’s alright. We’re best mates. Like I said, I would’ve helped if—“

But whatever Merlin is about to say never leaves his lips because the door suddenly flies open and a man with unruly blonde hair walks in.

“Sir, you cannot enter the—“

Arthur holds up a hand. “It’s alright, George, thank you. Edwin, to what do I owe the pleasure?” So, this is Edwin. Arthur’s voice is mild and levelled, but Merlin notes the hint of steel behind the words.

And apparently, so does Edwin because he smirks, and there’s a spark in his beady little eyes that says he knows _exactly_ how irritated Arthur is. His gaze roams the room. “Oh, nothing. I’m just looking around my soon-to-be office. I want to acquaint myself with the place.”

“Right,” Arthur shuffles some papers on his desk, before turning back to his cousin, “well, Edwin, this isn’t a playground, and we do real work around here, so if you can see yourself out?”

“Oh, please, Arthur. Did you know that your father’s lawyers contacted me this morning to tell me the news? To think that Uther would make it hard for his own son to take the throne in this company! Well, has Uther lost his mind?”

“Edwin,” Arthur’s jaw hardens, and he’s so close to punching his cousin in the face. Merlin knows because that’s exactly what he wants to do to Edwin. Uther may be a strict man, but he’s a good man, “need I remind you that I still have six months?”

At this, Edwin actually laughs. “Five and a half. And as if that bothers me. How could you possibly find someone to marry in that short amount of time?”

“He doesn’t have to.”

Merlin surprises himself, and apparently, everyone else in the room. Edwin looks at him as if seeing him for the first time, while Arthur stares at him like he’s grown another head. George’s mouth is open, and it looks like his eyes are about to pop out of their sockets. In an instant, Merlin is uneasy with what he just claimed, but he can’t take it back because this Edwin is insufferable, and he’s insulted both Arthur and Uther in the short time that he’s been here, and Arthur’s right about one thing: this…dickwad doesn’t deserve Pendragon Industries.

“And who are you?” Edwin sneers.

“Merlin, Arthur’s fiancé. And you are?” he raises an eyebrow, and he knows that it makes him look even more insolent than normal.

“Right,” Arthur clears his throat, “Merlin, this is Edwin Muirden, my cousin. Edwin, this is Merlin, my…fiancé.”

Merlin holds out his hand to Edwin, but surprise, surprise, the man just sneers again. “Pleasure,” he says in a tone that relays his infinite annoyance to the people in the office with him.

Merlin smirks. “Glad to make your acquaintance. If you’ll excuse us, I was just about to take my fiancé to dinner. Arthur, are you ready?”

“Just about. Let me leave a few instructions…”

Edwin walks out without another word. And George…well, let’s just say that as the door closes, Merlin sees George by one of the cubicles outside, fervently talking with one of the PAs. Oh, shit. Merlin and his big, big mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes? No? Lame? What did you guys think?


	3. Arthur and Merlin Make a Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You asked me to marry you!”  
> “And you said no!”  
> “Yes, I did, you complete and utter clotpole!”

They never made it to the pub. Merlin texted Lance that Arthur has an emergency, and that they need to be somewhere else. Arthur closes the door to his flat, and releases the breath he’s been holding since they left the office. Merlin’s been quiet, and Arthur doesn’t really know what to say to his best friend, so he smartly kept his mouth shut as he drove to his flat. But that was 30 minutes ago, and they need to talk.

“Merlin—“

“What the _fuck_ was I thinking?!” Merlin grabs his hair as he turns in a circle.

“Mate, just calm down—“

“I can’t believe I said that. Why did I say that? Why did you let me say that?!”

“Merlin—“

“Oh, god, we’re fucked. We need to take it back. We have to take it back. I mean, really, we can’t get married. I have a son, for fuck’s sake. And you’re… _you_!”

Arthur frowns, and he can feel his temper start to rise. “What is that supposed to mean?!”

“Oh, come now, Arthur! Did you really think—“

The phone rings, breaking their argument. They both stare at it for a moment, before Arthur realizes that it’s his phone and it’s not going to answer itself. “Pendragon.”

“Arthur.”

He frowns. His father should still be in bed building up his strength, not on the phone. Uther sounds content enough on the phone (not happy; Arthur doesn’t think Uther has any happy bone in his body), though, so Arthur surmises that it’s not an emergency.

“Father, are you alright? Is Nurse Jackson there with you?”

“I’m fine. And Nurse was actually the one who dialed the phone.”

“Okay.” He waits patiently for Uther to get to the point of his call.

“Arthur, I phoned to congratulate you.”

“You did?”

“Yes. And I must say that I’m impressed with how well you kept this little secret of yours. You were always so busy with work that I frequently wondered if all you had time for were meaningless one night stands. But I’m glad that you’ve matured, son.”

“Father, what are you talking about?”

“Your engagement, of course!” And this time, Arthur does hear a giggle from the other end. His father, Uther Pendragon, is giggling.

“What—How—Who told you?!”

“Why, Bernard, of course.” Bernard? Bernard is one of their lawyers.

“And how did Bernard find out?” Merlin walks closer to him, probably getting worried by the panic in his voice.

This time, though, Uther’s voice becomes terse. “Arthur, Edwin told him.”

Arthur sighs and rubs his forehead with a hand. “Right. Apologies, Father.”

“Well,” Uther’s upbeat again. Definitely upbeat; Arthur makes a mental note to talk to Uther’s physician about his father’s mental capacity of late because there is something seriously wrong. Perhaps it’s a delayed onset of Alzheimer’s or something, “again, I’m happy for you. And I can’t wait to have you and Merlin over for dinner.”

“Father, look, there’s been a misunderstanding.”

A pause.

“A…misunderstanding?”

“Yes.”

“Do elaborate.”

“Merlin and I are not getting married.” This time, Merlin comes _really close_ to Arthur, making it hard for him to breathe.

“You’re not?”

“No. He—we—just we’re not, okay? It’s all very complicated, and really, I—“

“You mean to tell me that you and Merlin have been together for a long time, and now that you’re having a bit of a problem, you’re just going to break the poor boy’s heart?”

“What? Father, Merlin and I are not _together_!”

“Arthur, how dare you! Merlin is a good young man from a good family! You cannot just cast him aside like he has no feelings!

 “What—no! No feelings, Father! Feelings are not part of the equation! We’re not even dating!”

“Arthur! I may not know how you young people do it these days, but I’m quite certain that if you… _sleep_ with a person, then that means you’re dating each other!”

“But, we’re not—!“

“Enough, Arthur! I raised you to have better honor than that! Now, Gaius is an old friend, and I really don’t want to be the one to inform him that my own son broke his nephew’s heart. Fix this!”

“Wait! Gaius knows?”

Too late. His father has already hung up. Arthur looks at his friend. Merlin is pale, his blue eyes wide with fear and panic.

“Gaius knows?!” He moans. “Gah!”

 

* * *

 

“I hate you.” Merlin kicks his foot hours later. They’re sitting side by side on the floor, with beers in their hands, surrounded by even more beer bottles. “This is worse than the stripper incident.”

“You hate me? Need I remind you that this is all your fault?” Arthur kicks Merlin back.

“Me? How is this my fault, you arse?” Merlin kicks his foot again, harder.

“You’re the one who couldn’t keep his mouth shut and claimed that I was your ‘fiancé’ to the entire universe!” He elbows Merlin.

“You asked me to marry you!”

“And you said no!”

“Yes, I did, you complete and utter clotpole!”

“Well, you’re an idiot!”

They both lose steam, and go back to drinking their beers in relative peace.

“Is it…” Arthur starts, stops, then starts again. “Would it be terrible to be married to me?” He finished quietly.

Silence.

He doesn’t dare look, because looking at Merlin will only make the rejection hurt more.

Merlin breaks the silence by snorting. “Of course.” Then he laughs. The idiot is laughing at him. And Arthur doesn’t care anymore. He sets the bottle down, with the full intent of locking himself in his bedroom and staying there for days, but Merlin puts a hand on his arm. “You’d be absolutely dreadful. You’re a nag. You don’t like your flat messy, and you always mock my choice of music.”

And that sets him going, because only Merlin can make a normal observation sound like an insult. “Because nobody in their right minds will eagerly listen to Lady Gaga! Outright rubbish! I mean, we’re both bisexual, but I don’t know where this obsession is coming from! Is there a book somewhere that says ‘thou shall like Gaga if thou likes dicks’?”

“Hah! As if James Blunt is any better! He’s whiny, Arthur!”

“He’s not whiny, he’s soulful! And it’s not as if you’re a prize of a husband! You forget everything! It’s a wonder you can take care of Mordred in your constant state of absent-mindedness!”

“You snore!”

“You wear the most hideous neckerchiefs! I swear to god, I would rather die than be seen in public with you!”

“They’re scarves, not neckerchiefs! And one of them was from you!”

“Only because it distracts everyone from those ridiculous ears!”

“Your eyes are too close together.”

“Liar!”

“Prat!”

“Idiot!”

Soon, he and Merlin are laughing. They’ve always been like this; hurling insults at each other, making fun of the other’s strengths and weaknesses. Arthur has always thought of their relationship as a friendship forged by mutual dislike for each other. It’s no wonder he fell for the guy—Merlin is still by his side even when he’s being a horrendous and spoilt man. Merlin keeps him  _grounded_.

“Fine,” Merlin declares after their laughter has subsided.

“Fine, what?”

“Let’s get married.”

Arthur chokes on his drink. “Are you having me on?”

“No. Totally serious. Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

“Mordred…”

“We’ll keep Mordred out of it. We’ll say that we’re moving in with you so that we can save money. And your flat’s big enough for us to have our own rooms. And he already calls you Uncle Arthur, so that’s not such a drastic change, is it?” He nods. “And we don’t bring Mordred to your company outings. In fact, we keep him away from all of this.”

“And the wedding?”

“Let’s keep it simple, because really, Arthur, do you want a big wedding with the cake and everything?” Arthur shakes his head. “Good. A visit to the judge will suffice.”

Arthur nods again.

“And we’ll need a pre-nup.”

That jolts Arthur out of his reverie. “A pre-nup?”

Merlin looks at him as if he’s judging whether Arthur’s really an idiot. “Yes, Arthur, a pre-nup. We’ll eventually get divorced, so it’s better to just put it in writing that we’ll just be married for a year and we have no obligations to each other than, you know, putting our names on the marriage license.”

That stills Arthur, because this is not how he imagined it going at all. He’d conjured up a scenario that Merlin will eventually come to his senses, and return his feelings. However, he’s not a child, and he knows that imagination is far from the truth most of the time, so he swallows whatever argument his brain is already cooking up, and just nods.

“And besides,” the idiot continues, “it’s better to set Uther’s mind at ease, right? Tell him that Mordred and I will not be draining you.” Merlin laughs.

After a moment, Arthur finally speaks up. “Is that what you think of me?” Merlin opens his mouth, but Arthur doesn’t let him talk. “Contrary to what you might think, _Mer_ lin, I’m not a monster. I’m not going to marry you and not take responsibility for you or Mordred. As long as we’re married, I’ll be providing for you.”

“That’s not fair—“

“I’m already taking much from you and Mordred just by asking you to marry me. I think it’s plenty fair, don’t you?”

Merlin sighs, and by virtue of being his best friend, Arthur can imagine the wheels turning in the space between Merlin’s ears that he claims to be a brain, and he just knows that Merlin’s going to argue about _something else_ , but he surprises Arthur when he says, “Okay.”

“Okay.” He pauses, then, “And another thing, we can’t tell anybody that this is a farce.”

Merlin glares at him. “Why the hell not?! We’ll only be married for a year!”

“Because! We can’t give Edwin a reason to dispute my claim to the company! People talk, Merlin, and I’d rather they talk about what we want them to talk about. If our friends believe that this is real, then Edwin, the lawyers, and the rest of the world will follow. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now, give me your left hand.”

“Why?” Merlin’s forehead creases in confusion, but he gives Arthur his hand, nonetheless.

Arthur takes Merlin’s hand, pulls off the silver ring on his thumb, and then places it on Merlin’s own. “There. We’re engaged.”

“Arthur, I’m not actually a girl—“

“Shut up, Merlin.” Merlin stays quiet, so Arthur doesn’t say any more because he’s on the first step to getting what he wants. It’ll be easy to get the idiot to fall in love with him next. Honestly, how hard can it be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments! You guys are amazeballs! And I like Gaga and James Blunt. :)


	4. The Pendragon-Emrys Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the fuck was that about?”  
> “What?”  
> “That full-on, eye-sex thing you got going on! And-and touching me!”

The next morning, as he makes breakfast, Mordred bounces into the room with the day’s paper in his hand, and runs straight into Merlin’s knees.

“Daddy! Daddy! It’s you! And Uncle Arfur!”

“Huh? Mordred, what are you talking about?”

Mordred waves the newspaper again, jumping up and down in his excitement. “Look!”

He takes the paper, and stares.

Oh, that…that is him, alright. That’s his picture taken at last year’s winter formal. And that’s Arthur, looking absolutely dashing next to him. And under that are the words: MERLIN EMRYS TO WED ARTHUR PENDRAGON.

And Merlin doesn’t know who to kill first: Arthur, Uther, or his very own uncle.

 

* * *

 

Merlin strides to the newsroom, dragging Mordred behind him. He called Carl on the way here, and he dutifully informed Merlin that yes, Mr. Gaius Gallagher is in the office today. He sees his uncle inside Rob’s office, and, still clutching the newspaper, he storms in without knocking.

“What the hell, Gaius!” He slams the paper down between the two men, the article announcing his and Arthur’s engagement on the front page.

“Lower your voice, boy!” Gaius raises an eyebrow, but Merlin doesn’t care.

“Gaius, why did you allow this to be printed?!” He’s vaguely aware that Mordred has his arms around Merlin’s legs, and he runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Uther and I thought that it’d be best if we can get it announced immediately.”

“Best?!” Merlin’s voice steadily rising. “Best for whom?! For the paper? More publicity for Uther’s company? You didn’t even think to ask me or Arthur! And how did you even—Arthur and I only talked last night!”

“Uther phoned me.”

“Uther—oh my god, Gaius! And now, because of this _announcement_ , my mother knows as well. Don’t you think she deserved to know from me?!”

At the mention of his sister, Gaius looks sheepish. “Your mother was with me when Uther called. She wishes to convey her congratulations and that she’ll call you today.”

Great. That’s just _absolutely perfect._

“Congulations? Daddy, what’s congulations mean?”

He looks down at Mordred. Damn, now, he’s forgetting that he has his son with him. “I’ll tell you later. Right now, say goodbye to Grandpa Gaius.”

Mordred’s face scrunches up in confusion. “But we just got here.”

Merlin sighs. Mordred has always been close to his grandfather, but at the moment, Merlin is pissed off and he’d rather stay away from his uncle. “I know. But you can spend time with him next time. Say goodbye.”

“Merlin,” Gaius admonishes, “the boy’s right. We haven’t seen each other in days.”

“Say goodbye to grandpa, Mordred.” He repeats, resolute.

Mordred shuffles to Gaius and gives his grandfather a hug. “Bye bye, grandpa.”

They walk out of Rob’s office, with Merlin pretending that he doesn’t notice how his fellow writers are now scuffling away from the scene, as if they haven’t been listening closely to the shouting match between their boss and his nephew. Merlin sighs. He needs Arthur. His phone rings, and, as he sees the screen display, his nerves relax somewhat. “Arthur, I’m so, so sorry...”

 

* * *

 

“Where’s Mordred?” Arthur asks the second he enters Merlin’s flat.

“In his room, playing.” Merlin starts to pace. Arthur is aware that his friend is in a panic, evident in his wide eyes and messy hair (perhaps ran his long, thin hands through them for an _hour_ ).

“Are you sure about this?”

“No, but we have to tell him. The announcement changes _everything_.”

Merlin’s phone rings, and, in an action that takes Arthur completely off-guard, throws it against the wall where it shatters into a dozen pieces. Arthur involuntary flinches at the sound. Merlin loves his phone—bloody can’t survive without it—so shocked doesn’t even begin to describe how Arthur’s feeling. The blonde stares at his friend with his mouth open as Merlin points a finger at the space in the wall his phone made contact with.

“That.” Merlin jabs his finger at the direction of the wall again, as if it had done him an insult. “That has been ringing and _ringing_ and it won’t stop. And it’s because of that _bloody_ paper!” Arthur can understand where he’s coming from. His friends started calling too after he read the paper that morning; he had to change the settings in his mobile to allow only texts to come through. Merlin huffs out a breath to calm himself. “Right. I’ll go get Mordred. You sit.”

Arthur does what he’s told, quietly. His palms are sweaty from overthinking—how will Mordred react? What will the child say? Sure, he like Arthur now, but what will he say about the change in their status? God, he really hasn’t been thinking at all. This is different and far more complicated than just asking your best mate to marry you.

Merlin comes back ushering Mordred along. Making his decision, Arthur stands up and drags Merlin to the kitchen.

“Wha—Arthur?”

“Let’s call it off.”

“What?”

“You’re right. This is a mistake. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. This is Mordred we’re talking about; he’s just a kid. Let’s call it off. Tell them it’s a mistake.”

“Arthur?”

“What?”

“Are you planning on disappearing from our lives after the divorce?”

“What?” He glares at Merlin. “Why the hell would I do that? Do you think that I’d let you deal with the divorce on your own? Do you think I will not care what happens to Mordred?” His voice is getting louder, but he can’t bring himself to care. He’s not as egotistical as the papers say he is.

“That’s what I thought.” Merlin runs a hand through his hair. “You’re right; we can take it back. But people are going to talk, and they’re going to be talking about this for a long time. You’re about to be the CEO of one of the biggest companies in Europe, and if we call off the wedding now, people will think you’re immature and impulsive. You can’t afford that.”

Arthur snorts. “So what? Mordred—“

“And as much as I hate to admit it, cancelling the wedding will hurt my reputation, too. Think about it—I’m a journalist, Arthur. And, my uncle published the story. They’ll wonder why we printed it in the first place. They’ll wonder if we’re drunk or high when we got engaged. And I can’t give Children’s Services a reason to knock on my door. Much like you, Arthur, people know who I am, and one hint that I am an unfit father, and I’ll have the government on my arse. I can’t risk losing Mordred.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

He lets Merlin lead him to the sitting room where Mordred is still quietly playing with his toy soldier and making gun noises. Merlin picks him up from the floor and settles him down on the coffee table, with Merlin and Arthur across from him sitting on the couch.

“Daddy, are we going to Grandpa Gaius now? Grandma’s here this weekend!”

“Uh, Mordred, there’s something Arthur and I want to tell you.”

“Okay!”

“We…that is Arthur and I…” Merlin gestures at the both of them, “we are getting married.” Pause. Mordred just watches them quietly. “Do you, uh, do you know what that means, Mordred?” Merlin rubs his hands together, as Arthur holds his breath. He’s itching to yell, run, and do anything to just get out from Mordred’s scrutiny. He’s always told Merlin that his son is too intelligent for a child his age.

“It means that you and Uncle Arfur love each other and gunna kiss each other all the time?”

Arthur chokes; Merlin sputters. “Well, kind of like that. You see, when two people get married, they become connected to each other.”

Mordred cuts in. “Does it mean that you’re gunna live in the same house like Uncle Lance and Auntie Gwen?”

“Yes.”

The child frowns. “But where will I go?”

“What—no! I mean, you and I, we’re going to live with Arthur once we’re married.”

“Is Aunt ‘Gana and Uncle Leon gunna be there?”

“No, because they’re also _married_ and they have their own house to go to.”

“Why can’t Uncle Arfur stay with us, then?”

“His flat is bigger.”

The boy frowns again.

“Can I still see my friends and Auntie Gwen if you get married?”

“Of course.”

“Can I take all my toys with me?”

Merlin chuckles. “Of course.”

“But Uncle Arfur can’t cook s‘ghetti. He’s good with breakfast, though.”

Merlin laughs loudly this time.

Arthur defends himself. “Hey, I’m not gonna let you starve, Mordred.”

“Don’t worry, Mordred. I’ll still cook spaghetti.”

“Okay.” Mordred grins.

“Will you be okay with Arthur and me getting married?”

“Jenny has two mommies. Does this mean I’ll have two daddies now?”

Before Merlin can answer, Arthur beats him to it. “Yeah, kind of. And, you know, you can just call me Arthur instead of Uncle Arthur.”

Mordred appears to be thinking about it hard. After what felt like ages, he says, “Okay. Can we have s’ghetti today?”

Both he and Merlin breathe a sigh of relief. That’s one conversation down. Now, they’ll just have to talk to the rest of their families and friends.

 

* * *

 

They invited their friends to the pub that night. Perhaps a few drinks will make them forget that they found out about the engagement through the papers first. Arthur can tell that Merlin’s nervous since he left Mordred with Hunith (with a promise to have her over for dinner to officially celebrate his engagement to Arthur). The man has been alternately smoothening his hair and playing with his ‘engagement’ ring every ten minutes.

“Dammit, Merlin! Enough of that! You’re only making your hair messier.”

“Forgive me for being nervous; I’m not used to this!” Merlin hisses, then looks out the car window.

“Look, I know, alright? I feel the same way. The announcement just…got the jump on us, but nothing’s changed, alright?” Merlin nods.

Despite the words, Arthur’s worried, too. This was all supposed to be a secret, a quiet thing that will only last a year so that he can keep the company that’s rightfully his and Morgana’s. But now everything’s blown out of proportion, and their wedding went to the top of the society pages in one night. One night! Arthur wishes Merlin will fall in bed with him just as fast.

Leon also gave him an earful this morning, but Morgana didn’t even grab the phone from her husband. And that’s worrying, because Morgana _always_ has something to say about everything. A Morgana that stays quiet is a Morgana that has a devious plan of deviousness in store for Arthur.

Arthur also just found out that, despite graduating at the top of his class, he’s an idiot. An utter fool. He might be best friends with Merlin, but he has no idea how to romance the man. Usually, he’d go to Merlin whenever he needs advice, so yeah, there lies the problem. His plan of making Merlin fall in love with him is immediately turning into ruins.

“Merlin! Arthur!” They follow Gwen’s voice to their usual booth. There’s Leon, Morgana, Gwen, Lance, Elyan, and Percy—so the gang’s complete, then.

“Hi!”

Arthur forces a smile, and he sees Merlin do the same as they greet their friends and accept their cheers regarding the engagement. They sat down to where drinks are laid out, Arthur purposely avoiding Morgana’s eye.

“So,” Leon says after a while, “how long has this been going on?”

He starts to answer, but to his surprise, Merlin beats him to it.

“We…didn’t mean to keep it from you guys, yeah?”

“We know, Merlin,” Gwen pats Merlin’s hand. “We’re happy for the two of you, really.”

“But,” Morgana says, and all Arthur can think about is ‘ _shit, shit, shit’_ , “for a newly-engaged couple, you two are sitting with considerable space between.” And she smirks.

Sometimes, he’s convinced that Morgana is the devil’s own spawn, given to Uther years ago to wreak havoc to mankind. But, Arthur, having grown up alongside the witch, can hold his own, in both the brains and the acting department. He laughs. “Merlin and I have been hiding this thing for far too long, we’ve gotten used to keeping things…private.” Then, he rakes his eyes at Merlin from head to waist, all heat and hunger, making Merlin blush from the neck up. Their friends all laugh at the blatant display of desire, so Arthur smirks right back at Morgana. Arthur = 1, Morgana = 0.

“Alright, alright!” Elyan shouts over the din, holding his pint up, “Let’s stop him now before he goes into the details. To Merlin and Arthur!”

Soon enough, they get to talking about other things. However, just to be safe, Arthur pulls Merlin closer to him, little by little, until they’re hip to hip. Suddenly, Merlin jumps up and yells, “Next round on us! Come on, Arthur!”

The instant they arrive at the bar, Merlin whirls at him and hisses, “What the fuck was that about?”

He decides that playing dumb is the best way to go in these situations. After all, it’s always worked with his previous lovers. “What?”

“That!” Merlin makes some motion with his hands. “That full-on, eye-sex thing you got going on! And-and _touching_ me!”

“Merlin,” he hisses right back, “I’m just trying to convince our friends! They’ll think it’s unusual if we don’t at least touch each other!”

“Argh! Fine! And since you’re so smug, you pick up the tab!”

He smirks. “Yes, dear!”

“And stop with the pet names!”

He gave Merlin his ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about’ look. Then, since Merlin gave him the perfect opening, he says, “Soo…eye-sex, huh? Are you getting hot and bothered every time I look at you?”

“You wish.” And with that, Merlin grabs a couple of drinks and walks away. Arthur turns back to the bar smiling. This is going to be so much _fun_.

 

* * *

 

Now that an official announcement has been released, their plans take a different turn. The simple wedding that he and Arthur talked about is now a complete, nine-yards-kind-of-thing event, with a hotel reception, catering, and a guest list a mile long. Courtesies of being heirs to two of the most successful companies in Britain.

Uther, Hunith, and Gaius are ecstatic. They’ve taken to calling Merlin and Arthur to give advice from the food to their tuxedos.

Merlin refuses to have anything to do with planning the wedding, so he convinced Arthur to hire a wedding planner. Nimueh is nice, although she seems to have a _thing_ for Merlin, always touching his arm when she’s making a point, or leaning close when showing Merlin something. So much so that even Arthur takes notice, and resorts to becoming very, _very_ handsy with Merlin every time Nimueh’s near. He had to remind Arthur that he is, in fact, a man and doesn’t need his virtues protected like some damsel in distress. Merlin’s not sure which one of them is more annoying.

He has also taken to twisting the ring around his thumb, especially whenever they get to talking about the stupid wedding. Since Arthur put the damned thing on his finger, Merlin finds its presence heavy, and it serves as a daily reminder that he’d promised his best friend a year of marriage. Once, Arthur caught him playing with the ring. He almost asked Arthur if he wanted the ring back, but then Arthur leaned over and traced the outline of the ring with a finger. “I used to do that, too, when I’m nervous.” The tenderness in his voice surprised Merlin, made it hard for him breathe. But Arthur moved away before he can say anything. His reaction to Arthur’s close proximity is puzzling, and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

But that’s far from Merlin’s biggest problem. Ever since the engagement, Rob has been his major source of irritation. For the second time since he started working for his uncle, Merlin walks into his editor’s office without knocking or announcing himself.

“Rob.”

“Not now, Emrys.”

“I need an assignment.”

“Emrys, as I keep on telling you, everything’s been taken.”

“Bull.”

“Excuse me?” Rob straightens up in his seat.

“I said ‘bull.’” He stares at Rob without flinching.

“Emrys, your uncle might let you get away with that attitude—“

“Oh, please, cut the crap!” Merlin sits down on one chair and leans forward. “Every story’s been covered because you’ve already given them away. Cora said that you gave her two more assignments even though she already told you that she’s swamped. You gave Ben my usual Saturday feature, and Frank’s whinging about having to actually go out to the streets to interview the students present at yesterday’s rally—something I could have done.” He glowers at Rob, and Merlin swears he saw his editor’s right eye _twitch_. “Here’s a choice: either you give me an assignment, or Gallagher News Agency will have a scandal on their hands when people find out that the nephew of your publisher is working for the competition.”

This time, Rob’s eyes not only twitch, but make fast, jerky glances at the door. “Look, your uncle doesn’t want you to take on too many assignments—“

That’s pretty much what Merlin has guessed. “Give me an assignment; let me deal with my uncle.”

“Fine!” Rob glares at him, Merlin smirks. “Ask the others if they have something for you. Now, get out of my office! I don’t wanna see your face for a week!”

Merlin gets up, then stops by the door. “Thanks, Rob!” And because he can’t help it, he winks.


	5. Meet the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, you’re good at that.”  
> “At what?”  
> “Fatherhood.”

Arthur, Merlin, and Mordred are sitting in Arthur’s car, looking up at Uther’s house. It’s a mansion really, but it’s the home Arthur grew up in, and the only home he’s known. He kind of misses it, but not at the moment because both he and Merlin are dreading facing Uther. On Arthur’s part, because his father, along with everybody they know, thought that Arthur had been sleeping with Merlin for a long time. And besides, who wants to have dinner with Uther? His father’s a good man, but Arthur has learned long ago that his office persona and home persona are one and the same. For Merlin, he’s met and talked to Uther over the years, but they’ve always been civil. In fact, even Arthur is unsure whether his father liked Merlin or not.

They’ve put off the invitation to dinner for a week before Uther forced the issue. Uther’s assistant Ronan called George and told him to put down dinner at the Pendragon mansion on Arthur’s calendar. So here they are.

“Are we there yet?” They both jump at Mordred’s voice from the backseat. Arthur looks at Merlin and nods. Time to face the music.

After Rhys, the butler, had taken their coats, he leads them straight to the library where Uther’s waiting. Arthur hasn’t seen his father since this whole debacle started, so he doesn’t know what to expect.

“Hey, don’t worry, it’ll be fine.” Merlin bumps his shoulder, prompting Arthur to look at his best friend-turned-fiancé. Merlin smiles, then links their hands together. “And we better sell it, yeah?”

They smile at each other as Rhys opens the doors to the library.

“Arthur, Merlin.” Uther is sitting on a wing-back chair, looking healthier than he had been in the hospital. His cheeks are no longer gaunt, and his eyes are lively. Arthur catches the eye of Nurse Jackson sitting quietly beside Uther and sends a look of gratitude her way. His father gestures to the seats across from him. “So glad you can come. Please, sit.” That’s when he notices the little boy who’s holding on to Arthur’s left hand like a vise. “And who is this?” Uther asks.

The three of them sit on the long couch.

“This is Mordred,” Merlin says, “my son.”

“Ah, yes. The grandson Gaius mentioned.” Uther smiles at Mordred and holds his hands out. “Hello, Mordred, why don’t you come closer and give your other grandpa a hug?”

Merlin turns to him and mouths, “Other grandpa?”

“Uh,” Arthur tries, he does, but nothing comes out. Mordred is watching Uther warily, but Uther just smiles encouragingly.

“Come, child, and let me look you over.”

“Uh, Father, I—“

Mordred takes the decision out of their hands by coming closer to Uther and, what do you know, gives the old man a hug.

Merlin and Arthur gape. Arthur has never seen his father act like that around children, and jury’s still out on whether it’s terrifying or amusing. And Mordred, known for being guarded with strangers, is now tapping Uther’s cheek with a small hand, and smiling up at him.

“Look at you!” Uther gushes, and Arthur just has to raise an eyebrow. “You’re the spitting image of your father.”

“Are you gonna be my other grandpa?” Mordred asks boldly, because he’s young and he doesn’t know the meaning of danger.

“Yes.”

“What you called, then?”

Merlin visibly winces, but before he can scold Mordred on his manners, his father replies, “My name is Uther.”

Mordred scrunches up his face in an obvious gesture of thinking hard. “Ufer?”

Uther chuckles—like really chuckles, and Arthur’s so unused to see his father in such a state that he has a strong instinct to grab Mordred and Merlin and run. “Yes,” his father confirms, “I’m Uther.”

Mordred leans closer to Uther, and whispers conspiratorially, “Will you be giving me secret sweets like Grandpa Gaius?”

“Of course,” Uther whispers back, and winks at Arthur and Merlin as if sharing a confidence. And to make matters even more bizarre, he smiles—with teeth and all—at Merlin and Arthur and says, “He’s wonderful.”

“Uh,” Because Merlin is a journalist, and therefore, brave, he speaks up. “T-thank you, Mr. Pendragon.”

“Call me Uther. You’re about to be my son-in-law; first names are long overdue, don’t you think?”

“Of course, Uther.”

His father turns to him. “Arthur, I must admit, this is better than I expected.”

Arthur has been informed by Uther’s physicians that he’s doing well, both physically and mentally, but he’s inclined to doubt their reports because everything has been surreal since they walked through the front door. However, he keeps all this to himself, and decides to stay polite. “It is?”

“Why, yes. I thought I wouldn’t live to see you married. And I must say that I’m disappointed that you felt like you had to keep your relationship a secret. But now, you’re engaged to Merlin, and you’ve even given me a grandson.”

“Father, you do know that Mordred is not really my son…”

Uther waves a hand in dismissal. “Just the same. I’m proud of you.”

Just then, Rhys shows up to announce dinner.

Uther’s movements are slow, but he manages to stand by himself. He takes the cane Nurse Jackson hands him with a smile, and holds out his hand, which the boy promptly takes. “Come, Mordred, dinner’s waiting.”

Merlin and Arthur trail behind them, starting wordlessly as Uther bonds with his new grandson. And right that moment, Arthur decides that he needs his father to be looked at by a different set of physicians.

 

* * *

 

 

It is bedtime, and Mordred insists that Arthur reads him the story about the Knights. Arthur is such a sucker for Mordred’s big, green eyes that he never says no. Merlin watches from the doorway as Arthur, due to years of fencing practice, perfectly executes a sword fight with an imaginary foe, much to the boy’s delight.

“And the Questing Beast is slain!”

Mordred, the rapt audience, claps his hands enthusiastically. “Again! Again!”

Arthur jumps on the bed to tickle Mordred, and the sound of childish laughter fills Merlin’s heart with happiness. “Tomorrow, Knight Mordred. Tonight, you sleep.”

The blonde tucks Mordred in as the boy’s giggles dwindle, then smooths down the messy raven hair. “Good night, Mordred.”

Merlin has never heard Arthur speak so gently before. Oh, the blonde has always been kind to Mordred. He willingly held a three-month-old Mordred, while the boy was crying, missing his mother, and suffering from a nasty ear infection as Merlin frantically drove them to the hospital. Arthur never left Merlin’s side even when Freya left – never losing his patience with Mordred even when he had to reprint a handful of spreadsheets because Merlin’s six-month-old son peed all over the blonde’s expensive desk. Quite a number of people will readily claim that Arthur is a selfish man who only cares for investments and revenues, but they don’t see Arthur’s smile whenever Mordred does something as simple as burp.

“Night night. Daddy?”

Merlin walks over to the bed, and gives Mordred his obligatory good night kiss. “Night, Mordred.”

“Arfur? No kiss?”

Right before Merlin’s eyes, Arthur’s heart melts. Merlin hides his smile as Arthur wordlessly gives Mordred a good night kiss.

Merlin closes the light as he and Arthur walk out of Mordred’s room. “You know, you’re good at that.”

“At what?”

“Fatherhood.”

Arthur blushes. “Yeah, well...it’s Mordred. He’s not difficult.”

Merlin laughs, because even after all these years, Arthur still blushes with the simplest of compliments. Arthur grabs a pillow from the couch and throws it at him, hitting him square in the face.

He sobers up, and turns to the blonde. “Do you think about it?”

“Think about what?”

“Having children?”

Arthur shrugs. “I don’t know. Sometimes I look at you and I think, ‘Nah.’” The prat grins.

And because it’s Merlin’s life, the peace gets broken by the ringing of the phone.

He watches as Arthur answers the phone, and, after a moment, mouths “Hunith” at him. After a string of uh-huhs and okays, Arthur hangs up the phone.

“Your mother’s coming to visit.”

 

* * *

 

Merlin should have anticipated it, really. Hunith has been on the phone with him almost every day since he became engaged to Arthur, and it was only a matter of time before she comes to visit them. Despite previous attempts by him and Gaius, Hunith still doesn’t want to leave Ealdor and the spacious house that the late architect Balinor Emrys had made for his dear wife. So, they make do with phone calls and quarterly visits. Except this weekend. This weekend, Hunith wants to spend time with her grandson and soon-to-be son-in-law, Arthur.

She also wants to see Merlin, obviously, but that’s just an afterthought.

Arthur is picking up Hunith from the train station, then driving her to Gaius’s. Hunith wanted to take a cab, but Arthur insisted. And Hunith, needless to say, is completely delighted by Merlin’s ‘charming fiancé’.

Charming? As if. But Hunith insists that “Arthur Pendragon is every mother’s dream for her child.” Right. Merlin better get Mordred ready for dinner before said _dream_ calls him on the phone to demand where they are.

Hunith and Arthur are already settled in Gaius’s parlour when Merlin and Mordred arrive. And by the looks of it, they’re all having a wonderful time looking at Mordred’s baby pictures.

“Grandma!” Mordred dashes to give Hunith a hug; Merlin follows suit.

“Ah, Merlin!”

“Gaius.” He nods at his uncle. Merlin knows that Gaius knows that he’s covering his usual load of assignments, but they are both pretending that it’s not happening, which is completely fine with Merlin.

Arthur takes the few steps to his side, then puts an arm around Merlin’s waist. He almost shies away, but remembers that his mum and Gaius are watching. After a month of engagement, Merlin’s still not used to the warm touches that Arthur easily showers on him and Mordred—especially the ones for him. “Merlin, we were just about to send out a search party.”

“Haha. Funny, Arthur.”

“Come!” Gaius says. “Dinner’s ready.”

 

* * *

 

Merlin is watching Arthur, Hunith, and Mordred as they play dominos on the floor after dinner when Gaius comes up to him. He ignores his uncle because he just knows what’s coming next, but he’s not going to be the one to start the conversation. He and Gaius are close, he has treated the old man like a second father, but Merlin can’t believe that Gaius would do something as underhanded as telling Rob to not give him work.

“Merlin, I’d like to talk to you about the company.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Merlin, I’m getting on in years, and I can no longer keep up with running the place. I need your help.”

“Gaius, you’re not that old. And I’m pretty sure that you have other options available. If I hadn’t gone to journalism, what would you have done?”

“But you did train in journalism, so that’s a moot point. And I’d rather the agency goes to you than to other people. You’ll keep the place _honest_.”

He shakes his head. Why can’t his uncle see that he doesn’t want to rule the world? He just wants to write! “Gaius…Gaius, I can’t.”

“Why not? Merlin, you’re about to get married now. Think of your son. Running the company is hard work, yes, but it keeps you here, it gives you more time to spend with Mordred. Less travel. And what if you and Arthur decide to have more children?”

He chokes. He’s also pretty sure that he’s blushing to the tips of his ginormous ears. He may be engaged to Arthur, but so far, he’s been successful in keeping his thoughts away from the bedroom and what their arrangements will be after the wedding. Arthur surely doesn’t talk about it. So, nope, not going there. “Gaius, I may be wrong, but the last time I checked, Arthur and I are a couple of men. Sorry to burst your bubble, but sadly, male pregnancy is not yet possible.”

He earns a smack on the head for the quip. “Adoption, Merlin.”

“I don’t think Arthur wants to have children.”

Gaius raises an eyebrow. “Have you seen him? He treats Mordred like his own son. He—“

“Which means that Mordred is enough. For the two of us.”

“But if he does? Want children, I mean?”

The conversation has taken quite a different turn from when they started, and it is rapidly unnerving Merlin, so he runs a hand through his hair. “Gaius—“

“Just…think about this, please. You know the publishing industry, you’re a commendable journalist. I believe that you’d make a great CEO, if only you’d let yourself try.”

 _Try._ He does think about Mordred, and he knows that running around the country and the whole of Europe covering stories is not conducive to a healthy emotional and intellectual wellbeing for his son. But writing is what he loves to do. He’s made sure that Mordred has plenty of support from Gwen, Morgana, and Arthur while he’s away, but is it enough?

“Fine.”

Merlin glances at where Arthur and Mordred are whispering strategies to each other, and his heart skips a beat. Arthur and Mordred’s growing relationship is another thing that he refuses to think about. But Gaius is right; Arthur treats—and has always treated—Mordred like his own son, and Merlin knows he’s lucky to have a best friend like him. He can tell that Arthur wants children, but this marriage is a farce and it will only last a year, and even though the entire planet and their mother think that they’re hopelessly in love, they’re not, so Merlin is employing an exorbitant amount of deliberate ignorance on subjects such as family and the far, far future. And since Gaius _knows_ him and can sift through his bullshit, he decided to keep it, as his uncle said, honest. “I’ll think about it.”

After a lengthy pause, Gaius nods. “Good.” And Merlin swears that Gaius knows exactly what he’s talking about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your lovely comments-they encourage me! I know that this is slow going, so let me just get my real-life work out of the way so that I can finally finish this. :)


	6. Leon is a Sneaky Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jumpy. Right. No, Merlin is not jumpy; he’s really, honest-to-goodness, a girl, and he’s suffering from the mood swings that Arthur had endured from Morgana growing up.

**_Leon (to Merlin):_ ** _Mate, are you and Arthur free this Friday nyt?_

**_Merlin (to Leon):_ ** _Dunno, why?_

**_Leon (to Merlin):_ ** _Cuz we’ve not seen you in ages. Tell Arty to finish work early and meet us at the house for dinner &drinks._

**_Merlin (to Leon):_ ** _You work with him. Why don’t you tell him?_

**_Leon (to Merlin):_ ** _Ha! I work for him, not with him. You try to tell your boss to do something._

**_Leon (to Merlin):_ ** _And besides, Arthur only ever listens to you. ;)_

Merlin rolls his eyes and puts his new mobile phone down on the kitchen counter, wondering what Leon is on about. He’s making dinner while keeping an eye on Mordred playing in the living room. Arthur is coming over to talk over some things with him, and also to sign the pre-nup their lawyers had drawn up. The blond hated having a pre-nup contract, Merlin can tell, but he went along with it. Merlin’s hoping that making Arthur’s favorites (chicken pesto ravioli and minestrone soup) will prevent the man from burning the papers on sight. He doesn’t understand Arthur’s ingrained hate for the pre-nup, but he knows the blond better than anyone, and Merlin can just _feel_ Arthur’s blood boiling at the thought of signing the contract.

Arthur comes through the door (yes, he gave the blonde a set of keys to his flat, so what?), and as is their custom these past few weeks, Mordred tugs Arthur to play with him and his toy knights. Merlin watches the two as he finishes making dinner. He can’t help but notice that Mordred has taken to spending time with and talking about Arthur every chance he gets. And the tantrums that Mordred seemed intent on giving Merlin every night have vanished since Arthur has taken to tucking up Mordred at night. And it worries Merlin. Mordred is just a kid; what will happen when he and Arthur get divorced?

“Smells good.”

Merlin whirls around to find Arthur leaning against the kitchen doorway, smiling that crooked smile of his. His arms, crossed on his chest, do interesting things to his suit jacket, so Merlin turns back to the stove before he can comment on the blond’s muscles.

“Yup, just a few minutes more,” he says.

“Great.” Arthur’s voice is suddenly near his ear, making him nearly drop the wooden spoon he’s holding. How did the man move so quietly and quickly across the room?

“Arthur! What the hell?!” Merlin doesn’t mean to shout, he really doesn’t, but, “You shouldn’t be sneaking up on me while I’m cooking!”

The smile on Arthur’s face falls a bit, and Merlin sees a small amount of doubt flash in the man’s blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t sneaking. I thought you heard me.”

“Oh. Right, sorry. I guess, I, um, just jumpy.”

“Uh, right. I’ll just,” Arthur points a thumb at the direction of the dining table, “set the table then.” Then he leaves Merlin alone with his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

All throughout dinner, Arthur is walking on eggshells. Merlin has been snappy and less patient than normal, and he doesn’t understand why. Just the other day, he almost got his head chopped off for merely asking if they should get the flummery pudding instead of the Eton mess for their wedding dessert—really , it wasn’t as if he was asking for a blood sacrifice. And tonight, he just wanted to help in the kitchen, but Merlin accused him of ‘sneaking up.’

_Jumpy._ Right. No, Merlin is not jumpy; he’s really, honest-to-goodness, a girl, and he’s suffering from the mood swings that Arthur had endured from Morgana growing up.

“Arthur,” Merlin says as he comes back from putting Mordred to bed, “Leon is asking us over this Friday for dinner. Said we haven’t shown our faces in a long time.”

In all the bustle planning the wedding, he hasn’t spent that much time together with Merlin, like really together. Recently, all their talks revolved around the wedding and moving in and meeting the lawyers and the pre-nup (which Merlin still hasn’t shown him and he vows to find the damned thing before Merlin signs it, dammit), that he and Merlin haven’t been able to go to the pub as often as they used to.

“Arthur?”

The other man’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. “Yeah. Uh, I have nothing planned that night, so why not?” He smiles.

“Okay.” Merlin sits next to Arthur, then tosses an envelope onto his lap. “The pre-nup. The lawyers wanted to be present when we signed, but I told them to shove off. We’re not children, as much as you act like one.”

Arthur agrees (except for the insinuation that he acts like a child and he makes a mental note to get back at Merlin for that). He quickly scans the document, searching for the things they’ve agreed upon – where to live in case of divorce, a joint bank account as well as keeping their separate ones, custody of Mordred, declaring both the Pendragon Industries and the Gallagher News Agency as off-limits, etc. There are some clauses that Arthur desires to scratch off the papers – where to live in case of divorce (and it’s _in case_ within the document, but _when_ in real life) and a joint bank account as well as keeping their separate ones (something that rattles Arthur because he can provide for his own family, thank you very much) – but he’s a businessman and he understands the importance of these things, so he says nothing, and just signs the papers. And besides, there’s plenty of time to burn the contract once he’s succeeded in making Merlin fall in love with him.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Merlin asks as he finishes signing the contract. Arthur keeps a close eye on the envelope to know where Merlin stashes that thing—as soon as Merlin leaves the room, he’d hide the pre-nup into his briefcase and feed it to the shredder as soon as he gets home.

“Oh, I don’t know, Merlin. How about when you and Mordred will move in? Or the honeymoon that our parents are insisting we have? Or about a dozen other things that you resolutely avoid talking to me about?”

Merlin fidgets and Arthur smirks – he’s taken a wild guess and, apparently, it’s not that far off the mark. “I don’t avoid talking to you about them!”

“Right.” Arthur grins.

The dark-haired man ignores him. “We’ll move in a week before the wedding. No honeymoon, I don’t care what our parents say. I mean, why do we even _need_ a honeymoon? What’re we gonna do during that time—play Mario Kart?” There are plenty of activities that two people with healthy sex drives can do on a honeymoon that don’t have to involve Wii, but Arthur stops himself from blurting out such things because Merlin doesn’t look amenable to any kind of suggestion at the moment.

“And besides,” Merlin continues, not even noticing how quiet Arthur’s being (and that Arthur is blushing furiously), “it’s hard to leave Mordred behind.”

“Alright. But what about the cake? Nimueh’s asking—“

“I don’t want to have mint chocolate for a wedding cake – I don’t even want a wedding cake so you decide on that. And if I so much as hear anything about table linens and napkins and corsages, I swear I’m going to strangle somebody!” Merlin drops his head on Arthur’s shoulder, and Arthur pretends that the silky feel of Merlin’s raven locks against his cheek is not affecting his brain’s ability to function. “Can’t we just go to Las Vegas to get this over with? Americans do it all the time on the telly.” Merlin ends his tirade with a sigh.

Arthur chuckles at this. Of course Merlin would take inspiration from the telly, never mind the fact that he’s a writer and a voracious researcher and that he knows better than to believe everything he sees on the telly. Arthur shifts his head a bit to peer down at the other man, but the action brings some tufts of hair to tickle his chin and nose. He inhales sharply at the sensation and curses himself in every language he knows, because Merlin has been using his peppermint shampoo again and the fresh scent combined with his lovely hair makes him want to ravish Merlin where they sit. It won’t do well for their relationship if he just grabs the man and inhale his very essence, so Arthur makes a mental reminder to buy Merlin a bottle of shampoo that won’t make him smell so damn delicious. Something fruity perhaps—he hates those on women.

“Arthur?”

Arthur climbs out of his thoughts, because, “Wait, you’re serious?”

He gets a frown and a punch on the chest in return. “Of course I’m serious, you prat! What, do you think I enjoy being prodded and put into trousers that are definitely too tight for me? Honestly, did that ghastly woman really expect those to fit me?! I may be slender, but I’m not a stick!”

He laughs. “She just wanted to admire your tight arse.” Merlin punches him some more.

“Oh, it’s funny, is it? And I noticed that everything she handed to you were _perfect_.”

“You’re exaggerating, for sure.”

“I am not! And all those questions I have to deal with! Before this whole wedding _thing_ , the most complicated decisions I’ve had to make were what to make Mordred for dinner and if I would make the deadline at the newspaper! But nooo. Now, I have to decide between satin and silk and lace! I am not a woman, Arthur! I do not like _lace_! And why does Nimueh want me to decide? It’s your wedding, too! I’m sick of it! So, just take me to Vegas and marry me!”

“You’ll break your mother’s heart if we go to Vegas. You know she’s looking forward to the wedding. And we already promised Mordred he’d carry the rings.” And since he’s a glutton for physical contact and a masochist and he can’t help himself, he puts a hand on Merlin’s hair and ruffles it.

Merlin grumbles something that sounded suspiciously like ‘clotpole’ before giving a final, “Fine.” Then, he grabs the remote and turns on the telly. “But don’t blame me when I suddenly smother Nimueh.”

 

* * *

 

“Where did all these cars come from? Do our friends have that many cars? And did they drive them all here?” Merlin asks an equally-confused Arthur. The other man is driving slowly down Leon and Morgana’s spacious driveway, looking for a space to park the car, but the place is full, except for space directly in front of the front door where they ended up arguing.

“Are you sure Leon said tonight, Merlin?”

“Of course, I’m sure!”

“Well, your brain’s usually addled, you might have written down the wrong date and time!”

“I did not, you arse! Leon said dinner this Friday! Perhaps Morgana is hosting one of her book club things?”

“What are you talking about? Morgana doesn’t like book clubs!”

“Well, I didn’t know that, did I?! And she’s your bloody sister, why don’t you just call her and ask her why she has half the cars in Camelot on her driveway?!”

The front door opens, illuminating their car. Leon comes jogging down the steps (he really couldn’t understand why Morgana have chosen a simpler house?). “Merlin, Arthur! Finally! What took you guys so long?”

“Leon,” Arthur frowns at the man, “what’s this?”

“This is your engagement party!” Leon smiles wide, pride evident on his face.

Merlin uproots his jaw from the ground. “What do you mean ‘engagement party’?”

“Well, since you two have been extremely busy lately, Morgana and I thought that it’d be great if we throw you guys an engagement party. You never really had one, and we knew that you guys are tied up with the wedding planning and stuff, so we planned one for you! Pretty brilliant, huh?”

Merlin is quite sure that he’s staring rather rudely at Leon, but he can’t help it. He and Arthur had been successful in making their families think that this is real, but not like this. Not on a scale like this. He looks at Arthur who is staring right back at him.

“Leon,” Arthur puts a hand on his brother-in-law’s shoulder, “could you give us a moment, please? I need to talk to my fiancé.”

“Arthur—“ Merlin says as soon as Leon disappears into the house.

“Merlin, relax.”

“Relax?” He hisses. “I can’t relax! Do you know how many people are in there? Do you even know who’s in there? What are we going to do?”

“Stop being such a girl, Merlin! It’s only for a couple of hours! And if we can fool our parents into thinking we’re together, then I’m sure we can do it again without much trouble. Just-just follow my lead, alright?”

He nods.

“Now, breathe.”

He does.

“Good.”

Then, he almost trips up the stairs because Arthur chose that moment to put an arm around his waist. Damn it.

 

* * *

 

“There they are!” Somebody shouts as soon as they enter the house. He glances at the man beside him—Arthur is smiling wide and greeting the guests as if they knew they were going to have a stupid engagement party.

“Merlin!” It’s Gwen, with her beautiful face and her beautiful dress, looking as radiant as ever, running towards him. His breath gets knocked out as Gwen jumps into his arms and proceeds to squeeze the life out of him. “What took you guys so long? We’ve been waiting for ages!”

He looks around for Arthur for a bit of support, but the blond is now halfway across the room, talking animatedly with Leon, Percival, and Elyan.

“Merlin, what’s wrong? Oh, god, you don’t like the party, do you? I told Morgana it was a bad idea, I told her—“

“No! No, Gwen, I love it. Arthur and I have been so busy lately, you know…”

“Yes, I know! We haven’t seen you two for a while, we were getting worried.”

In lieu of a response, he laughs. And Gwen doesn’t even notice, as she continues to babble about her work, Lance, Morgana, her students, and Lance, who, by the way, just showed up, then promptly takes Gwen away for some reason or other, leaving Merlin alone.

He sighs. He never does well in parties. And even though this is supposed to be his and Arthur’s engagement party, he feels like a boat without an anchor. And where is that fiancé of his? Entertaining his friends, that’s what. That good-for-nothing, supercilious, utterly unreliable, spoiled pra—

“Mr. Emrys?”

He turns to find a beautiful woman in front of him. Long, curly blond hair framing her face and flowing down her shoulder, red lips smiling, blue eyes looking up at him through long, curling lashes. “Uh, hi.” He waits, but the woman doesn’t seem all that inclined to talk, so he carries on. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh.” The woman jumps at that, then extends her right hand. “I’m Althea Davis, I’m a friend of Morgana’s from Uni.”

He raises an eyebrow and shakes the proffered hand. “Oh, well, pleasure to meet you.”

“Yes,” Althea breathes out, and Merlin worries that the air inside the room might be too humid for the woman. He glances at the double French doors to gauge how distant the balconies are. “I’m—I’m a big fan of your work.”

Now, his eyebrows arch in a way that would make Gaius proud. “Oh. Really? Wow. Thank you. Um, not a lot of people say that to me.” He chuckles, and he’s pretty sure that he’s blushing to the tips of his ears. It’s true. His photo is always printed beside his byline, and he sometimes shows up on the society pages (especially when accompanying his mother or Gaius on social events), but nobody really came up to him and tell him that they _like_ his work.

“Oh, yes. I like your writing style. It’s straightforward and yet entertaining. I especially liked that piece you did about the gay soldiers in the military. It was…moving.” He remembers that one. It took a lot of research, plenty of hours on the phone, coaxing wronged soldiers into coming out and agreeing to an interview with him. He had to lie and bribe and cajole so that he can spend a week in Afghanistan just to interview a couple of romantically-involved soldiers in between raids and bombings. The soldiers remained anonymous, but the pain they went through was enough to render Merlin sleepless for a fortnight. Althea must have seen the horror on his face, because she reaches out to touch his arm.

An arm comes out of nowhere and winds its way around Merlin’s waist. He jumps and turns. It’s Arthur.

“Merlin,” Arthur’s tone was calm and friendly, but there’s a hint of steel underneath. Merlin wonders what’s put Arthur in a mood. “…who’s your friend?”

“I’m Althea—“

“—Davis! Yes, now I remember. I haven’t seen you for years. But you’ll have to excuse us, I need to steal Merlin for a minute. Enjoy the party!”

Then, a confused Merlin is being led away from an equally-confused Althea. “What was that abou—?”

“I swear, Merlin. I leave you for a _minute_ and you go ahead and _flirt_ …” Arthur abruptly stops.

“I what?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

The ringing of a tea spoon against a champagne glass catches their attention.

“Excuse me,” Leon says, “I’d like to raise a toast to Arthur and Merlin, who have finally figured out that they belong together.” Their friends and guests laugh. “Come on, Arthur! Give Merlin a kiss!”

For Merlin, all the air in the room is suddenly sucked out and his heart wants to leap out of his chest. He and Arthur have used touches and handholding to insinuate intimacy when they’re out in public, but this is different from that. They’ve never tried _kissing_ before. Arthur’s hand around his waist tightens, and he understands the unspoken command. _Suck it up, Emrys, and just kiss me._

He looks at Arthur, who is looking back at him. He’s frozen as Arthur touches his cheek with a hand and leans closer to Merlin. His breath hitches, and he doesn’t even realize that he was leaning away until Arthur moves his hand to cradle his neck and stop him from moving some more. Arthur is so close—so, so close—but he stops within an inch from Merlin’s face. ( _What is he waiting for? What is he waiting for?_ ) They share their breaths, in and out, warm puffs of air on each other’s lips. Finally— _finally_ —Arthur closes the distance and puts his lips to Merlin’s.

Arthur’s lips are soft and warm and _oh, yes_. Arthur uses his other hand to cradle Merlin’s chin, gently pushing his thumb against Merlin’s lips, coaxing them to open up and let Arthur _in_. Merlin does and Arthur’s tongue invades his mouth. The blond is as aggressive in kissing as he is about everything else, but Merlin didn’t get to where he was by being weak, so he leans forward to match Arthur’s kisses, both in greed and in approach. Their tongues tangle, wet and hot, and—

Then, it was over. Merlin feels like he’s spent days getting lost in the kiss, but it’s been mere minutes. Their friends are clapping, satisfied with the performance, but all Merlin wants to do is to demand they leave at once.

Arthur pulls him closer still, and nuzzles his neck in the process. “Shh, it’s alright.” The blond whispers, breath ghosting over Merlin’s ears. “It’s done. It’s okay.”

Arthur is right—the kiss is over and their guests have returned to mingling—but Merlin can’t stop the rapid beating of his heart, and the warmth that spreads from his ears to his waist to his toes. He can’t stop his face from blushing, he knows, and he absolutely cannot stop his brain from thinking of things that he has never allowed himself to think of before, especially when it comes to Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg you guys! Thanks so so much for all the warm and helpful and amazing comments! You guys are sooo patient with this and I hope I'm doing your support justice! You guys are awesome!


	7. Warmth, and Lies, and Dinner Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Arthur needs to get a move on if Merlin were ever to fall in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that this thing is dragging and slow and please forgive me. Work is taking over my life! :( The wedding is coming next, I swear!

Arthur takes one more look at the dining table before he decides that everything is _perfect_. He’s invited Merlin over for dinner, and he’s nervous. Well, if he were honest with himself, he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown, but he needs his wits intact. This is it. The first step in making the idiot fall in love with him.

He checks in on the roast beef warming in the oven. Hilda, his housekeeper, has prepared a lovely meal for him and Merlin, and left with clear instructions on how to keep everything nice and warm. Now, if only Emrys would just end his interview and come home already.

Arthur hears the door open, and his lungs refuse to work anymore. This is it. This is it.

“Arthur?”

“Hi.” Arthur croaks, and he blames the roughness of his voice on the glass of wine he allowed himself earlier and not on Merlin’s crumpled appearance that makes him even more _delectable_. “Come on. Dinner’s waiting.” He, then, walks to the dining room, knowing that Merlin is following.

“Arthur, where’s Mordred?”

“Mordred’s at Morgana’s,” he smiles, “she said she’ll babysit him tonight. Aaand, she promised that she and Leon would take him to the zoo tomorrow. Sit.” Arthur walks to the kitchen to get their dinner, but instead of sitting down as instructed, Merlin follows him.

“Why?”

Arthur sighs. “ _Merlin_ , I thought I told you to sit.”

Merlin has his arms across his chest, all the while sporting an eyebrow that can rival Gaius’s. “Arthur,” he says with a voice that Arthur can tell is close to panic, “why is Morgana babysitting my son? And what is going on? Why are you—stop poking that food!”

“There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Then, what’s going on?”

“I just—look, I asked Hilda to make a simple dinner for us, okay? I just thought we can relax for tonight, have dinner without worrying about the wedding and my work and your work and everything else that we think about on a daily basis. I thought you would want it too, but it seems that I am gravely mistaken, and I apologize. I’ll go call Morgana.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes, Merlin, dinner. Have the fumes of that printing press muddled your brain, again?”

“But…why?”

Arthur rolls his eyes in exasperation. “I already _told_ you—“

“Yeah, I heard…but, I mean,” Merlin gestures towards the dining room, where the lights are dimmed, the table is set, and an unopened bottle of wine sits, “that’s hardly what you can call a simple dinner.”

Arthur wets his lips as he thinks, because Merlin’s obliviousness is just bordering on ridiculous. He can’t have been that unaffected by their kiss last night. Or perhaps he really did feel _nothing_. Knowing Merlin, it probably didn’t even cross his mind that the kiss meant something to Arthur, at least. God, what is he even doing? This is an utterly bad idea that is set to blow up on his face any second now.

“Arthur?”

“I just—it’s dinner, Merlin. Who cares if it’s simple or not? Can’t you just enjoy it, for once?” He turns his back on the other man, and leans on the counter for some support, because rejection is not something that he’s used with. Although, he shouldn’t have been surprised; this is Merlin he’s giving his life and heart to, of course he’s going to question every little thing. The idiot won’t do something just because he’s told to, not without digging into the root of it.

“Right.” The response is a whisper that Arthur is wondering if he’s just imagined it. Then, Merlin’s arms snake out and grabs the serving platter in front of Arthur. “This goes to the table, yeah?” Merlin is smiling that goofy smile of his as Arthur looks at him. He smiles back.

“Yeah.” Clearing his throat, he pulls out the appetizer (broccoli, because it’s Merlin’s favorite and would pick up a fuss if there are no vegetables during dinner _at all_ ) and follows the dark haired man.

Much to Arthur’s pleasure, they forget their small argument and proceeded to have fun during dinner. Then, they put on Star Trek on the DVD (because Benedict’s face alone is worth watching the movie a hundred times) to both mock Kirk and Spock’s bromance and the differences from the original timeline. All the while, Arthur tries his best to be the honorable and noble gentleman he could be.

Soon, the movie ends and Arthur stands up to leave, much as he wants to stay. The plan is to make Merlin see him in a different light, not ravage him where he sits.

“Stay.”

Arthur almost gives himself a crick in the neck with the speed of which his head turns to Merlin. “What?”

“Stay, Arthur. I mean, Mordred isn’t here for the entire weekend, and it’s late. You…yeah. You should stay. And besides, you must be tired; you shouldn’t drive home.”

He’s having a hard time breathing because, surely, Merlin is not suggesting what he thinks he’s suggesting, right? No, dammit, he better get his head out of the fucking gutter. And now, Merlin is fiddling with the remote.

“Though, if you don’t want, you know…”

“I want.” He cuts in abruptly. (It’s rude, yeah, but he doesn’t care.) “I want…yeah, I can stay.”

Merlin smiles again. “Good. Uh, I’ll get the guest room ready for you.”

“And I’ll…clear up the stuff here…yeah.”

Arthur moves to pick up the empty wine bottle and glasses from the coffee table just as Merlin stands up. They bump each other, making Arthur reach his hands out to steady Merlin—said hands landing on Merlin’s hips. “Steady,” he warns.

“Right. Uh, sorry.” Then, Merlin looks up at him from beneath his lashes, and every vow Arthur made himself tonight flies out the window. He leans down and captures Merlin’s lips with his own.

Merlin’s lips is slightly chapped, but the softness and warmth is even better than last night. He pulls Merlin closer as he leans further, simultaneously licking Merlin’s lips in a request to open up to him. Merlin gasps at the sensation, and Arthur tastes the wine and the heat and the distinct flavor of _Merlin_. He is about to go back in for another experience of Merlin’s tongue when hands push him away.

Arthur blinks. Merlin is panting heavily and glaring at him. “What the hell are you doing, Arthur?”

“I…” His chest heaves in an effort to calm himself, because he’s pretty sure that everything was going fine a while ago.

“Do you think this is a game?” Now, Merlin is pink in the face. And he looks hurt.

“What? No!” Arthur tries to reach out but Merlin steps back. “Merlin, this isn’t a game. I was just—“

“Oh, I know what you were doing. You want to make sure that the lawyers believe us, don’t you?”

Lawyers? “What? Merlin, what are you talking about?”

“Oh, please! Don’t act like you don’t know!” Merlin glares at him, his hands across the chest.

“Don’t know what? Merlin, you’re not making much sense!”

“Thompson called me this morning and asked me to meet with him! So, I know all about Edwin and everything, okay?!” The dark haired man turns his back on him.

“Wait. Thompson—“ Bernard Thompson is one of the lawyers working for Pendragon Industries. “Merlin, I don’t know what you’re talking about! What did Thompson say to you?” He grabs Merlin’s shoulder and forces the slender man to face him.

“He told me that Edwin doubts the engagement, and that that… _arse_ is filing a claim on your company, okay?! I know! So, you don’t have to do _this_ and act like—like—“

He freezes. “Edwin’s making a claim?”

Merlin points at the door. “I think you should go.”

His breath hitches, because he and Merlin have had their share of fights, but Merlin’s cold dismissal is unexpected and hurts like a bitch.

“Merlin, I—“

“Leave, Arthur.”

The command is final, and he has nothing to say to that. Merlin has already turned his back on him, making the pain in his chest double in strength. He can’t do anything right, not when it comes to Merlin. So, he does the only think he could do: he grabs his coat and his keys, and leaves.


	8. Time for a Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody walks down the aisle, but they come out of the ceremony definitely married. Definitely.

Arthur stares at the empty bed. Merlin and Mordred had moved in last Saturday, much to the delight of the four-year-old. Mordred enjoyed having a new room to paint (in red, much to Arthur’s satisfaction), and Merlin had moved all of his clothes and things in the space Arthur has cleared out of his closet and drawers.

When Merlin and Mordred arrived last weekend (with Gwen, Lance, Morgana, Leon, and the movers in tow), Merlin and Arthur stayed friendly by unspoken agreement. Holding hands, light touches, a brush of their lips here and there, everything. However, ice soon came to the flat once everyone else left, and it stayed that way since. Merlin is civil enough, but won’t look at him directly when they’re talking. Mordred doesn’t notice anything happening, thank God, or Arthur would never forgive himself for being such an arse. His plan backfired, as had everything that has happened since he asked Merlin to marry him, and the latest cause is Thompson and his stupid blathering.

And that was an…interesting conversation. Thompson had no right to talk to Merlin about the company, and Arthur said as much to the lawyer. Arthur can’t remember ever shouting as much as he did to Thompson that day, and he was so close to firing the man, but Arthur changed his mind. Thompson claimed that he contacted Merlin because he wants to be assured of Merlin’s ‘intentions’; Arthur is skeptical, but left the older man with a warning. The entire event prompted George to get him a cup of tea from that expensive shop down the street from their office (and surreptitiously call Merlin on his mobile on the way to report what happened, Arthur’s sure), and reschedule most of the afternoon’s appointments before it was deemed safe to be within Arthur’s vicinity again.

Arthur sighs and looks away from the bed to stare at himself in the mirror. His bow tie is perfect, his tuxedo well cut, and his hair bears no sign of his troubled mind. His fingers move to his left thumb, before realising that his ring is on Merlin’s finger. Bloody muscle memory.

Merlin has slept in Arthur’s bed since they moved in, but Arthur can feel the distance the size of Africa between them. They’ve also developed a pattern: Arthur wakes up early, Merlin works until the wee hours of the morning. They both take care of Mordred, and they don’t talk unless necessary.

The entire week, Arthur has tried explaining to Merlin, but whenever he tries to talk, the other man moves away. Or plays with Mordred. Or opens his laptop. It came as a relief that Gwen dragged Merlin out of the flat yesterday with a bag of Merlin’s clothes, toiletries, and his tuxedo because ( _“you’re getting married, Arthur, you can’t see each other, it’s bad luck!”_ ) Arthur’s certain that the superstition only holds true for grooms marrying brides, but he kept his mouth shut because it’s Gwen and she’s scary and she’s probably in league with Morgana on this one.

“Arthur?”

He turns towards the door, and sees Morgana. She’s as beautiful as ever, her forest green dress fitting her like a glove. She smiles and walks closer to him.

“You’re not worried, are you? I’m sure Gwen’s taking good care of Merlin, and Hunith and Gaius are on their way to the hotel with Mordred. Rhys even reports that Father is smiling like an idiot. It’ll be fine.”

“Yes.” And because his left thumb is free of his ring, he settles for brushing off imaginary lint on his tuxedo jacket as he looks into the mirror once more.

He sees Morgana raise an eyebrow. “Oh dear god, you still haven’t told him, have you?”

Arthur winces. He knows that Morgana knows, but by unspoken agreement, they pretended she didn’t. It appears that the agreement ends today.

“You…” Morgana makes frantic gestures with her hands before settling with, “vegetable! Really, Arthur, how hard can it be to tell Merlin, ‘listen, you idiot, I love you’!? And from where I’m standing, you guys seem to have gotten closer! You absolutely couldn’t keep your hands off each other during your engagement party!”

“It’s not that simple, Morgana! I’m busy with work, and so is he! And besides, it’s awkward enough that we’re getting married, I don’t want to make it any more awkward!”

Morgana steps closer with menace in her eyes. “If it’s already awkward, dear brother, then I don’t see how much of a difference it will make!” she hisses.

“It’s hard, alright? And there’s always no time.”

“Then I suggest you find time.” She huffs, and smooths out her dress. “I’ll wait for you in the car. And Arthur? You might be my brother, but he’s my friend, too. Don’t fuck this up.”

 _Don’t fuck this up._ Arthur thinks as he and Merlin clasps hands. The ceremony is underway and, though, he’s not looking, he can tell that several of the female guests were crying, if all the sniffing he hears is any indication. What is it with women and weddings?

He’s staring at Merlin staring at him, and he wonders when they went from not talking to out-staring each other. He mentally sighs. Merlin has always been stubborn and defiant, and Arthur’s certain that staring at him is another one of Merlin’s ‘you’re-an-idiot-I-don’t-know-why-I-put-up-with-you’ moves.

“You may kiss each other,” he hears the judge declare.

He tries to move, but Arthur’s mind is still on Merlin and his bullheadedness that it takes 10 seconds for him to realise that the judge has ended the ceremony. Merlin rolls his eyes at him, grabs his neck, and leans in for a kiss.

The kiss was chaste, more modest than the handful of kisses they have shared so far. Just a quick, soft peck on the lips, and then it was over and done with. Merlin turns to their guests and smiles and laughs as their friends and families (and business associates, because Uther may seem kinder, but he’s still a businessman, and he can’t let the chance for networking pass him by) congratulates them.

The moment their guests started saying their goodbyes is when Arthur realized he’s been on autopilot. From signing the registry, to the reception, to the toast—autopilot. The entire world could have burned, and he’d still be in a daze. Merlin digs his bony elbows on his ribs, making Arthur wince and see another one of Uther’s (and by extension, Arthur’s) business associate, extending his congratulations and saying goodbye.

With that over and done with, Arthur looks around the reception to find that only their family and closest friends remain. Leon, Morgana, Gwen, and Lancelot are chatting and laughing with their parents and Gauis, and Arthur smiles. It’s rare that everybody is laughing and having fun without the stresses of work, and if it’s Arthur and Merlin’s fake wedding that made this possible, so be it. However, not everything is going well, if the gleam in their friends’ eyes are any indication. They want something, and they’re currently walking towards Merlin and Arthur to get it.

“What is it?”

Merlin, still beside him, looks at him in confusion. His father, on the other hand, grins like a maniac as he hands him a set of keys.

“What’s this?”

“They’re keys, Arthur.”

Arthur rubs his forehead with his other hand. If Uther wasn’t his father, Arthur would’ve shouted at him by now. “Yes, Father, I know they’re keys. What are they for?”

Surprisingly, it was Hunith who answered. “Well, we’re worried that you two have not been spending as much time with each other as before.” That’s true, Arthur thinks, though he doubts that she knows it’s because of the kiss rather than preparing the wedding. “So, we thought we could give you this.”

Arthur couldn’t help it, he had to raise an eyebrow. “A key?”

“Oh, for the love of God!” Morgana exclaims. “It’s a key to your hotel room, Arthur. You and Merlin deserve a honeymoon, so we got you a hotel room here for the entire weekend.”

“But,” Merlin interjects, “we don’t need one. And there’s Mordred. We can’t just leave him alone. And besides, Arthur need to finish stuff at work. And I have deadlines—“

“Don’t worry about anything,” Morgana smiles, the kind of smile that says something wicked is happening in that brain of hers. “Hunith and Gaius will take care of Mordred. Arthur doesn’t need to work this weekend, and even if he does, Father and I can share the work. And Gaius has already cleared everything with Rob—he’s postponing the deadlines of your usual features.”

“Oh,” Gwen pipes up, beaming, “and your bags of clothes are already upstairs, so just go on and have fun!”

“Er…” Merlin clears his throat. “Er, Arthur, we should—“

“Thank our parents and friends for this? Yes, I think we should.” Arthur smirks at Merlin’s glare. He doesn’t care. He needs to talk to Merlin, and he’s not above using this…honeymoon as a way for Merlin to see some sense. “I think, _sweetheart,_ ” Merlin scowls at his words, “that this is a great idea. We deserve a honeymoon, don’t you think?”

 

* * *

 

“You really are a complete arse, aren’t you?!” Merlin shouts as soon as they enter the hotel room. It’s not enough that the prat kissed him just to one up Edwin. It’s not enough that the prat is the most perfect, most attentive groom that Merlin has ever seen. Or that he said yes to the free honeymoon suite from their parents. No, Arthur just has to play with his emotions too, as if they mean nothing.

But, Merlin should really be angry at himself. He let himself hope that Arthur would care for him as something other than a friend. These past few months, Arthur has been very sweet and less of a prat than he normally was, that Merlin allowed himself to believe that this sham relationship could lead to something more. But his conversation with Thompson made it clear that the only thing he can expect is Arthur’s continued friendship.

For the past week, Merlin can barely function whenever Arthur is around. He’s taken to working during the night just so he that he can write articles that actually make sense. Damn Arthur and his appealingly crooked smile and his drugging kisses. Damn Arthur for making him _feel_. Right now, all that he’s feeling is complete irritation at his new _husband_ , and he wonders if they’d consider the marriage annulled if he murders the blond right here and now.

“We need to talk,” Arthur counters.

“Oh, that’s right. We need to talk, you clotpole! Like, why in the world did you accept this?! You know that Mordred—“

“Mordred is being taken care of by Hunith and Gaius. And if I’m not mistaken, my father has also taken to having dinner with your mother whenever she has Mordred. They won’t let anything happen to him.”

“So, what do you want to talk about?” He crosses his arms. Alright, so the Mordred defense is wearing thin right this minute, but he won’t accept defeat. He doesn’t want to spend more time with Arthur than was strictly necessary, and a hotel room (a honeymoon suite for the love of God) is not helping him in any way. He’s not going to let his guard down again when Arthur’s around. Nope. He’s going to come out of this marriage with his pride and sanity intact.

“I didn’t know that Edwin was making a claim.”

“What?”

Arthur sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, which, really, he doesn’t have the right to do. He’s the one in the wrong here. “Edwin. I didn’t know he was making a claim to the company. And I didn’t know that Thompson talked to you, okay? And I told that old goat that he’s facing a lifetime in the rotary public scene if he ever so much as presumes to contact you again, alright? And I’m sorry because I didn’t know! So, could you please stop blaming me and being angry at me for _everything_? Because honestly? I’m getting tired of it!”

That throws him off. “Wait. You mean, you…you didn’t know?”

“No, Merlin, I did not. But don’t let that stop you from charging me from every offense known to mankind!”

Silence.

“I’m sorry,” he says, not quite looking at Arthur. “I thought you knew. When you kissed me…”

“Merlin, you idiot, I kissed you because I wanted to.”

He looks up in surprise. Arthur is advancing towards him, the blond’s strides filled with intent. Before he knows it, Arthur has grabbed his hair and is kissing him with a ferocity that goes straight for Merlin’s groin. Merlin grabs Arthur’s tuxedo jacket, to push him away or to pull him closer, he’s no longer sure. Before he can decide, though, Arthur’s mouth is hot on his neck, sucking a bruise on the tender skin there before laving it with his tongue. Then, the stupid git moves to his jaw and repeats the process. Merlin gasps as pain and pleasure marry, weakening his knees and stealing his breath. Arthur goes back to ravishing his mouth, and Merlin feels hands tugging on his shirt.

“Arthur—“

“Off. I want your clothes off,” Arthur growls out, the sound setting fire to Merlin’s blood. He captures Arthur’s mouth, but Arthur turns away to divest him of his clothes.

“Arthur, stop. Wait.”

Arthur does stop and looks at him in the eye. “Merlin, if you truly don’t want this, you better get out because I don’t think I can help myself.”

“No! I mean, yes, I want you too. But! We have no…stuff,” he finishes lamely.

For a moment, he worries that Arthur may not have understood him. But the prat smiles wickedly, then leans closer to him, warm breath ghosting over his ears. “Don’t worry, Morgana told me where they were. She said they’re our wedding present.”

Arthur points him to one of the bedside tables where a bowl of condoms and two tubes of lubricant lay, making Merlin chuckle because only Morgana will think that a proper wedding present is a bowl of condoms and lube. He picks one up and smiles.

The blond embraces him from behind and tucks his chin onto Merlin’s shoulder. “So…that’s a lot of condoms right there. What do you think we should do with them?”

Merlin huffs out a laugh. “It’d be a shame not to use them.”

Arthur grins and starts unbuckling Merlin’s belt. “My thoughts exactly.”

Soon, they were both naked and kissing on the bed with Arthur on top of Merlin. Merlin runs his hands up and down Arthur’s strong arms, gently but rhythmically frotting against Arthur’s hard cock. He grasps their cocks with one hand, but Arthur stops him.

“Wait, Merlin, wait. We need—“ Arthur grabs one of the bottles of lube and leans back. “Right. How do you want me?”

He studies Arthur’s mussed blond hair and well-toned torso, glowing like a beacon in the dim light of their hotel suite. His cock is standing majestically, wet and dripping, and Melin’s mouth swiftly dries. He imagines what it would taste on his mouth, and what it would feel up his arse. He makes the decision right there and then.

Merlin takes the lube from Arthur. “No, I…” he gulps, willing his voice to stay steady, “I want to do it. I want you to fuck me.” Before he can change him mind, he starts preparing himself.

 

 

* * *

 

Arthur is transfixed and can’t look away from Merlin’s slender fingers, scissoring and stretching the pale flesh between his thighs, working himself open for him—for Arthur.

He grips Merlin’s thighs, thumbs gently soothing the other man as he continues preparing himself. His mouth waters as Merlin throws his head back and suppresses a moan, his fingers, Arthur guesses, grazing his sweet spot. He desperately wants to be a part of this intimate process, so he indulges himself and takes the tip of Merlin’s cock inside his mouth. The other man’s hips jerk forwards at the unexpected action, but Arthur can’t bring himself to stop. He suckles the head, enjoying the salty taste of Merlin’s precome.

“Ar-Arthur!” Merlin growls.

Arthur pulls off with a wet pop. “Shhh…Merlin, please tell me you’re ready. As much as I’m enjoying the show, I want to be in you _now_!”

“Yes!” Merlin slips his fingers out, then starts to turn on his hands and knees.

“No!” Merlin looks at him in confusion. “No, I want you like this. Just…on your back like this.” He sweeps his tongue inside Merlin’s open mouth. “I want to see you.”

To his relief, the other man nods, and settles back down. Arthur kisses him again as he spreads Merlin’s legs even wider. He settles between the man’s thighs, lifting the legs up and around his waist, their cocks grazing, Merlin basically _mewling_ from the contact. Arthur grins; he never knew Merlin was sensitive.

As if reading his thoughts, Merlin slams a hand on his shoulder and glares at him. “Get on with it, prat!”

He smiles even wider. He should’ve known that Merlin would be utterly demanding even in bed. “Yes, husband.” He kisses each of Merlin’s inner thighs as he puts on a condom, lines up his cock, and thrusts in.

“Oh, god, yes!” Merlin grounds out, teeth clenching as he grabs handfuls of Arthur’s hair and _pulls_. Arthur takes it as the command it was and pulls out before pushing in again in one fluid motion. The movement is so strong that it causes Merlin’s entire body to hike up the bed an inch or so. With Merlin still gripping his hair, he leans a bit and starts a steady rhythm for them, occasionally changing the angle in search of Merlin’s prostate. Merlin used to much lube, but Arthur likes it. He’s wet like a woman, but tighter, hotter than he could ever imagine.

Suddenly, Merlin mewls and Arthur knows he’s hit the spot. Merlin releases his hair and drops his hands to his hard cock, but Arthur has other ideas.

“No,” he growls out before taking Merlin’s hands in his and pushing them on his sides, flush against the bed, and away from Merlin’s cock. His thrusts haven’t wavered, and he watches at the flushed cheeks and chest of his love.

“Arthur, let go of me!” Merlin struggles against his hands, but Arthur’s stronger, always has been.

“No, Merlin. Later. Much, much later.” He aims his thrusts to Merlin’s prostate again, and he watches as Merlin throws his head back and whimpers, his eyes squeezed shut, tears lining the eyelashes. He’s sweating profusely, both of them are, but the sight of Merlin flushed red, wet skin glistening in the warm yellow light, and panting heavily makes Arthur’s cock twitch more. “You look so beautiful like this.” He gasps out, his thrusts never wavering. “All wet and hard and _wanting_.” Merlin moans low on his throat, his hips jerking wildly to get the friction he so desperately wants. Arthur pulls Merlin’s hands above his head and takes both hands in one hand while he uses his other hand to pin Merlin’s hips on the bed.

“Arthur, you big clotpole—!”

He grins, the wet slap of skin on skin resonating all over the room. “Yes, what is it, husband?”

“Arthur…”

He leans over Merlin, putting his lips against one of Merlin’s ears (adorable ears) and whispers, “Tell me what you want.” He latches onto Merlin’s jaw and sucks.

“Arthur, please…” Merlin murmurs, turning his head to the other side so that Arthur can have better access to his neck.

“Yes, Merlin, tell me what you need.”

Arthur can feel his orgasm building, his bollocks tightening, ready to unload. He leans back, and stares intently at Merlin as he continues fucking him into the mattress.

“Arthur…”

“Say it!”

“ _Please_!” Merlin whines as Arthur’s cock continues its incessant pounding on his prostate.

He smiles, curls a hand on Merlin’s cock, then whispers. “Come for me.”

Merlin screams as his orgasm is wrenched out of him, his body clenching around Arthur, keeping Arthur inside. Arthur continues moving as much as he can, riding Merlin through his orgasm, knowing he himself isn’t going to last for very long. Three more thrusts in and Arthur is spilling his seed inside Merlin’s warm and wet hole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't edited this yet, so if you see mistakes, please do point them out! And a fave character is going to be introduced in the next chapter! :)


	9. Guess Who's Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin is being trained to take the helm at the news agency, while Arthur is the new company president. Somehow, that's not the biggest issue they have to deal with.

Merlin pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. He is elbows deep in reviewing advertising contracts that Gaius insists is an important task, and it’s starting to mess with his head. He blows out an air of frustration, decides to leave it off as a bad job as he leans away from his desk. _His huge, expensive desk in his huge, floor-to-ceiling-windows-with-a-view office._

He stands up to pace as he reflects upon the circumstances that led him here, right to this office. He has finally succumbed to Gaius’s request, and they have compromised to share the workload of running the company, hence, the advertising contracts. Although Gaius insists that this is a ‘stage of learning’ and that Merlin is ‘not expected to grasp everything quickly,’ the young man finds his duties slowly and steadily rising.

So much so, in fact, that he hasn’t been able to enjoy the feeling of being a newlywed for long. Merlin and Arthur hadn’t had sex since their honeymoon two months ago. Merlin tries not to be hurt by that—he knows that both he and Arthur are too busy, especially now that Arthur and Uther have finally signed the papers, and Arthur is undergoing transition to become the President and CEO of Pendragon Industries. The rest of their time is spent on Mordred—taking care of him, driving him to daycare and play dates, and (for Arthur) coaching Mordred’s junior football league.

That’s not to say that Arthur isn’t an attentive husband or that Merlin isn’t trying. They both like stealing kisses whenever they can, but they weren’t able to do more than that because Mordred is more demanding of their attention that ever. And truth be told, Merlin is relieved, because this thing—whatever _it_ is—between him and Arthur is confusing and powerful, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Sir?” His assistant (yes, he has an assistant now, and Arthur won’t stop laughing) breaks him out of his reverie. Merlin almost didn’t hire the freshly-graduated red-haired man, but Joseph bumped into Arthur in the hallway, and immediately called his husband ‘a pompous ass’ after enduring a tirade from the blond. Merlin gave him the job right there and then. Any assistant who is not cowed by Arthur is the right one for the job, in Merlin’s opinion.

“Joseph, I’ve told you before, call me Merlin.”

Joseph grins. “Right, sorry. Um, there’s someone here who wishes to see you. She says her name’s Freya Anderson?”

That’s when his world starts spinning.

 

\-----=====-----

  
Freya enters Merlin’s office the same way she entered his life all those years ago—apprehensively, awkwardly. She looks the same—same brown hair, same huge eyes, same slender frame—although there’s a healthy glow to her cheeks, a different vision as to how she was the day he last saw her. Merlin gestures to a chair in front of him and says, “Please, sit.”

Freya blushes; Merlin can’t help but associate her actions to the girl she was the first time they met. She was beautiful—she still is beautiful—though troubled. She was running from her own monsters. Merlin thought that she has made peace with her past when she became pregnant with Mordred, but he was mistaken.

Merlin sits down after she settles in her chair, and waits for Freya to start the conversation.

“You look…great,” she blushes harder. “Really. Um…”

He sighs, certain that it will take a while for Freya to get to the point. “What are you doing here?” he asks, proud that he kept the venom away from his voice.

“I missed you,” Freya says rather breathlessly.

Merlin doesn’t know what to think.

“Freya, what are you doing here?” he repeats, shaking his head.

“Merlin, I know that it’s been four years, and I know that you probably hate me right now, but I don’t blame you. I have a request, and I hope you’ll grant it.”

“Freya…”

“I—I want to get to know my son.”

 

\-----=====-----

 

“She’s back?” Arthur whispers as they stand by Modred’s bedroom door, his son blissfully asleep and unaware of the turmoil Arthur and Merlin are going through.

Merlin nods. After Freya left his office, he called his lawyers to explain the situation to them. Then he called Bernice, just to make sure that Mordred is safe and sound with her. After that, he called Arthur in a panic, then he rushed home just to see Mordred with his own eyes, ignoring the pointed looks and whispers from his co-workers—no, _employees_.

When he saw Mordred playing in his room, with Bernice keeping watch, he ran to his son and hugged the life out of him. Mordred laughed, thought it was a game, then promptly told Merlin about his day with Gwen and his classmates. Merlin couldn’t help but smoothen his son’s hair away from his face, and touching him, always touching him to convince himself that he’s _there._

Arthur arrived ten minutes after he did, looking flustered. He kissed Mordred, then Merlin, and agreed to a game of knights with the boy. They would have agreed to almost anything, Merlin’s certain. Wordlessly, Bernice made them all dinner, and left with a gentle touch on Merlin’s shoulder right after.

Now, Merlin wants to stay right there, and watch his son sleep. He can’t drag his eyes away from the small boy even if he wants to. He’s too precious, too fragile, and Freya had no right to walk back into their lives.

“You’re right, she doesn’t,” Arthur says as an answer, Merlin not realizing that he spoke out loud. “Why did she come back, did she say?”

Not ‘why did she leave’ but ‘why did she come back,’ because they both know the unspoken statement: she’d been gone for four years without ever wanting to see her son, so why now?

“Drug dependence,” Merlin breathes out. “God, Arthur, she was using again right after she gave birth to Mordred. She was using and I didn’t even know.”

Merlin sounds so broken, that Arthur takes his hand and pulls him into an embrace. “Come on, Merlin. You’ll wake Mords up if we just stand here and stare at him.”

Arthur tugs him towards the kitchen, where the blond made tea strong enough to wake the dead. Warm liquid soothes his throat, settling happily in his stomach. He gives Arthur the barest of smiles in appreciation.

Then, that smile twists into something nasty. “How could I not know she was back on it? We were living in the same flat. God, what does that say about me?”

“Merlin…”

“When Mordred cried, she didn’t even want to pick him up. I should have known then, right? I should have known. I could have stopped it before she started going back—“

“Listen, Merlin, it’s not your fault,” Arthur declares, “It’s not. You had a new son to take care of and a job to keep to pay the bills.”

The other man scoffs at that. “That’s not an excuse, Arthur.”

“It’s not an excuse, but that’s what happened. Merlin, she was clean for months before she got pregnant. You _helped_ her get clean. Whatever made her decide to go back to drugs wasn’t your fault.”

Merlin looks back to his tea. “She said she left to check herself into rehab. And now she’s all better. She’s clean again.”

“Do you believe her?” Arthur asks after he settles in the chair right next to Merlin.

“She has papers to prove it,” Merlin shrugs, but the frown on his forehead belies the casual gesture. He has his hands wrapped around his mug, the fingers tapping out a senseless rhythm on the ceramic. “She claims she’s better and that has a steady appointment with her sponsor.”

For a moment, Merlin’s hands grip his mug tightly, before Merlin raises his eyes at Arthur with a plea. “Arthur, what do I do?”

Arthur wants to say _Don’t. Don’t let her get near Mordred. Don’t let her back in. I can’t lose you both._ But he keeps these all in and goes for diplomatic instead. “Whatever’s best for Mordred.” Silence greets this pronouncement, and Arthur thinks that perhaps he’s said the wrong thing again. So, he tries to amend. “Look,” Arthur leans forward to put a hand on Merlin’s arm, “the lawyers are looking into it, and you know as well as I do that the law is on your side. It won’t be that easy to take Mordred from you. I’ll make sure of that.”

Merlin surprises him by jumping into his arms and kissing him passionately. Arthur holds him tightly because Freya is back, and he can’t even show how utterly, insanely possessive he feels about Merlin and Mordred right now, how he knows that things are about to change and he needs to be stronger. Freya can easily take his husband and his husband’s—fuck it—their child as she runs off to wherever it is she plans on going next.

They pull apart, but warm breath fans his face as Merlin stares at him. “Thank you,” Merlin pants, “Arthur, thank you for being here.”

He nods. “Always.”

In the end, Freya is allowed a supervised visit every two weeks.

 

\-----=====-----

Mordred is crying.

In fact, Mordred has been crying ever since he met Freya.

Merlin rubs a hand on his forehead, at a loss as to what to do. Arthur looks pretty much the same, eyes heavy with indecision and yearning to make Mordred feel better. They’re in his son’s too-small bed, with Mordred between them on his stomach, dreadful tears streaming down his face.

After finding out that Freya is his mother, Mordred lasted an hour before raising the most spectacular tantrum known to man. When Freya mentioned that she’s ‘looking forward to spending more time together and going on holidays’, Mordred kicked, screamed, and promised Merlin that he’d always eat his vegetables so that Merlin wouldn’t make him go with Freya. His son even clung on to Arthur’s trouser leg to ‘convice Daddy that I’ll be good.’ At that, Merlin cut the visit short, and threw out Freya and her lawyer. Politely, of course.

“Mords, please stop crying,” Merlin implores in a quiet voice. His son only shakes his head, wailing loudly. “I told you, we’re not giving you away. We love you, and we would never _ever_ give you away, okay?”

“B-but she said…”

“She only meant that she wanted to spend time with you. Remember some few months ago when you asked me why your friends have mummies and you don’t? What did I say?”

“That my mummy loves me very much, but she can’t be with me,” Mordred recites dutifully.

Merlin runs a hand along his son’s arms in comfort. “Exactly. And now, she can be with you. And you can be with her. She wants to spend time with you, you know?”

Despite all the tears, Mordred nods his head into the pillow to show he understands. However, that doesn't stop him from clutching onto Merlin’s and Arthur’s shirts with a death grip in a silent request to stay with him for the night.

Arthur nods, then toes off his shoes before settling in beside Mordred. Merlin does the same, and prays that Mordred will come out of this unscathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long wait!
> 
> Thanks for everyone who commented and who sent their kudos--you guys are amazing!


	10. Hearts in Grubby Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life alternates between sweet and difficult for the Emrys-Pendragon household, but Arthur and Merlin are determined to make it work. Meanwhile, Mordred has his first footie game.

The next ‘Mum Visits’—as Mordred calls them—were easier than the first. As long as both Merlin and Arthur are in the room with Mordred and Freya, his son is fine. At first, Mordred would hold their hands tightly while he talked to Freya, but eventually, he trusted that Merlin and Arthur won’t leave him alone. He even told Freya about his footie practice.

That's not all that's going right with the world. He doesn't know what's going on with Arthur, but his husband is more...affectionate as of late. Two weeks ago, he dropped by the agency to take Merlin out on an impromptu lunch date. Then, they walked to the park to go see the ducks waddling around. They talked about everything and nothing at once, and Merlin couldn't help leaning close to Arthur as they threw bread crumbs to the pond.

Then, last weekend, Arthur made breakfast for both Merlin and Mordred before driving them to Buckinghamshireto see the Roald Dahl Museum. He even bought Mordred a new plushy on the way home, which the boy wouldn’t let go of. Arthur was smiling all the way home.

And Merlin thinks that it wouldn’t be so bad to fall in love with Arthur.

He also thinks that he’s already half-way there.

 

\-----=====-----

 

Merlin walks out of the building, thinking of what to make for dinner, when a man in a driver’s uniform approaches him.

“Mr Emrys-Pendragon, sir?”

“Just Emrys. What can I do for you?” He takes a moment to study the young man. He’s tall and blonde, but on the scrawny side, and awkwardly holds out a white envelope.

“My name is Garett and I’m your chauffeur for today. Mr Pendragon would like for you to have this.”

Raising an eyebrow, Merlin takes the envelope and opens it. Inside is a note that says: _Go with Garett. I’ve got a surprise for you_ , in Arthur’s scrawl. A surprise from Arthur? Merlin would be excited, if he weren’t so apprehensive. Arthur doesn’t like receiving surprises, let alone giving one. The gifts Merlin had received from him were all sensible items that he thinks Merlin needs. Having been raised by Uther, with his impossible standards and stern manner, Merlin’s not shocked.

“Sir? Shall we go now? The car is waiting.”

“Uh, yes, sorry. Um, lead the way, Garett.”

Obviously, by ‘car,’ Garett means the stretch limousine idling by the side of the road. Merlin mentally groans at Arthur’s ostentatiousness. Couldn’t he have chosen a less conspicuous car?

Rolling his eyes, Merlin gets inside the luxurious car. After about an hour of driving through traffic, they arrive at a private airport outside of London. As the limo rounds a wide taxiway, he makes out a small charter jet with a waiting Arthur standing beside it. He frowns, because why did Arthur take him here? Is the blond going on a trip that he forgot to tell Merlin about?

The limo stops right in front of Arthur. Merlin gets out of the vehicle before Arthur or any of the staff standing around can open it for him, because while Arthur may revel in this kind of treatment, Merlin disapproves of it.

“Great, you’re here,” Arthur grins.

“Ye-es,” Merlin responds more slowly, “Mind telling me what I am doing here? Are you going on a trip somewhere?”

“ _We_ are going to Paris.”

“We are?”

“Yes.”

“But Mordred—“

“Is with Morgana and Leon. I’ve already told Gaius and your mother, and they promised to observe Freya’s Mum Visits. And Gaius assured me that he’d handle your duties. Your bags are packed and are inside the plane, and we are going to Paris.”

“Why?”

“We never really did get to have a proper honeymoon.”

“Yes, we did. That weekend—“

“Was not a proper honeymoon.” Arthur takes his left hand, and rubs the silver ring around Merlin’s thumb. _Arthur’s ring._ “Look, if it were up to me, we’d go to Bali or Hawaii or somewhere with plenty of sun and even more palm trees. However, I know you loathe being away from Mordred for too long, so I made a compromise. We haven’t been alone since that weekend, and I…just wanted some time to ourselves. We’d have five days to ourselves, and if anything happens, Paris is near enough that we’ll be able to get back immediately.”

Merlin’s heart is beating with such a noisy rhythm that he can swear Arthur can hear it. A proper honeymoon, Arthur said. _Some time to ourselves,_ and isn’t that what Merlin wanted as well? He isn’t certain he can speak with the lump in his throat, so he nods and lets Arthur lead him into the jet.

The suite Arthur got them at La Tremoille is marvelous, and Merlin can’t help but go straight to the French doors and imbibe the atmosphere. The last time he’d been to Paris was the year before Freya came into his life, and he, Arthur, and their friends spent the entire time running around the city and acting like children. He turns around to smile at Arthur. The blond is beaming at him in return, while taking off his cuff links and rolling his sleeves up his elbows.

“You like it?” Arthur asks.

“Yes,” Merlin replies breathlessly.

“Good, then let’s go get some late dinner.”

 

\-----=====-----

 

Five days pass by so quickly, that Merlin is certain that it’s all just a dream. Arthur didn’t take him to all the usual sights, not one of them have been places they’ve been to before. He dragged Merlin to obscure restaurants that only the most secretive of the locals know of, they went to the Musée du Cinéma to watch a Hitchcock classic, then the Crazy Horse for a show, then to the Butte aux Cailles for some interesting art. Arthur is slightly anally retentive, and Merlin’s sure that the blond planned this trip down to the most miniscule of details, even his nightly Skype call with Mordred.

Arthur made sure that he and Merlin always get to talk to Mordred before they go to sleep. The blond is interested in what Mordred has to say as much as Merlin is, and Merlin can feel Arthur’s love for his son. His doubts start to dwindle away slowly, and he marvels at how much love Arthur has inside him. Arthur is the loving and attentive kind of father, a vast contrast to Uther’s brand of parenthood. And yes, this means that Merlin is so very much fucked.

Because this also means that he just became Dorothy to Arthur’s Jerry. _Fuck_.

He feels arms go around his waist, and Arthur drops his chin on Merlin’s shoulder. “Hey,” Arthur whispers, “what’s with the faraway look? I mean, you ordinarily have that look, but you’re making me worry here.”

“Prat,” Merlin says, “It’s nothing. Just…enjoying the view.”

Arthur chuckles, “Let’s go to bed.”

The other man pulls him toward the beautiful and comfortable bed they’ve shared since they arrived in Paris. Merlin lies down, facing Arthur who is staring up at the ceiling.

“Arthur?” he whispers, hoping that Arthur will mistake it for a yawn or something.

Arthur grunts, “Yeah?”

“Thank you,” Arthur turns his head to look at him, “you know, for taking me to Paris and…everything. I enjoyed it.”

Arthur pulls him closer and drops a kiss on his forehead. “I’m glad. I enjoyed it, too. Now, sleep.”

Merlin watches as Arthur closes his eyes, and thinks that Arthur looks stunning even as he sleeps, and immediately cringes. _Fuck._ He might as well include ‘You had me at idiot’ with how much of a teenager Arthur has turned him into.

 

\-----=====-----

 

Two weeks in Mardrid without Arthur and Mordred is not his idea of a good time, Merlin thinks as he flashes another smile at another newspaper executive at another lunch meeting about renewing their partnership with Gallagher News Agency.

Although in the news world, newspapers and broadcasting companies are free to end their subscription any time, Gaius believes that it wouldn’t hurt to maintain a good working relationship with them, hence his two-week foray into the world of international business relations in Madrid.

Arthur was supportive and heartily agreed with Gaius; Mordred, however, was devastated. Not only is Merlin going to be gone for two weeks, he’s also going to miss Mordred’s first footie game, something that the whole family’s been looking forward to, Uther included.

“So, I hear you just got married,” Mr. Villarroel asks Merlin in staccato English.

He smiles. “Yes. To a lifelong friend.”

Mr. Villarroel smiles as well. “I can tell you love him very much.” Merlin frowns, causing the Spaniard to chuckle. “Oh, I know all the signs. I’ve been told I look like a man with his head in the clouds when I fell in love with my wife. I thought they were jokes, but looking at you, I understand what they mean.”

Merlin shifts in his seat. “I assure you, Mr. Villaroel, that my marriage is not a hindrance—“

“Ooh,’ the Spaniard flaps his hand about, cutting off Merlin, “do not misunderstand me. I can tell that you are an intelligent young man. I have also read your work. Gaius chose a good man to replace him.” He pauses, as if he’s thinking of the right words to say. “You are a family man also, and I think that makes you stronger.”

“Thank you.”

“I admit, I had…reservations about the change in leadership, but meeting you, I’ll gladly stay on. And you can count on that.”

Merlin is speechless, half in relief that he didn’t botch up the meeting, and half in the Spaniard’s assessment of his relationship with Arthur. The older man stands up, and his PA steps forward to help him put on his coat.

“Well, Mr. Emrys, I have enjoyed meeting with you.”

Merlin stands up as well, and stammers out, “Thank you, sir. And the feeling is mutual.”

They shake hands, Villarroel squeezes his. “I will have Miranda wire you the details. I look forward to meeting your husband in the future, Mr. Emrys.”

Merlin chuckles at that. “I’ll tell him.”

He breathes a sigh of relief once he’s said good night to Joseph and he’s slipped into his hotel suite. He’s only been here for two days, and yet he already misses Mordred and Arthur.

 

\-----=====-----

 

Two weeks without Merlin is challenging. Arthur was doing alright as the other half of the parent combo that Mordred has been enjoying since the wedding, but taking care of one child while still holding down his job is downright arduous, and he’s amazed at how Merlin was so wonderful at it before they got married.

Every day is routine, and yet not easy. Arthur has to wake up and make breakfast for him and Mordred before waking up the child. And then, after plenty of negotiations, he helps Mordred with his bath, and gets the kid ready for daycare. As soon as Nanny Bernice arrives to take Mordred to daycare, Arthur takes his own shower, packs up his suitcase, and goes to work. Arthur leaves the office earlier than usual to get started on their dinner. And since he’s not really that good a cook, they sometimes have to settle for take-away, which Mordred enjoyed for the first couple of nights, but has since then made remarks on how Merlin always makes him his favorite hummus dip. Feeling inadequate but determined to be a good father to Mordred, he begged Bernice to teach him how to cook.

Yes, he actively learned a new skill just to please a four-year-old. Somewhere in the background, his past lovers are all laughing.

But despite all that, fatherhood is not all that bad. Mordred always hugs him tight before leaving for daycare and shows Arthur all his artwork, which the blond immediately displays on the refrigerator door. He also introduces Arthur to his friends as his ‘other Daddy’ when Arthur has enough time to take him to his playdates. The kid also confided in him that he’s a better story-teller than Merlin is.

More than that, Mordred is content to only have him for company, even during nights Merlin’s meetings run longer than usual and they can’t have a video chat over Skype. Mordred might look forlornly at Arthur’s laptop, but he doesn’t mind when Arthur distracts him with his toy knights and soldiers.

Arthur is convinced that the four-year-old has Arthur’s heart in his little hand.

However, all of that pales in comparison as when Mordred gave his heart to Arthur in return.

It’s Mordred’s first footie game, which Arthur is live texting to Merlin. They don’t keep scores, but they’re two minutes before the end of the game, and Mordred is leading the ball to the goal like his life depended on it. He wants to get the ball in before the end of game, Arthur can tell. Apparently, so did one of the kids. He runs to Mordred, and reaches him just as Mordred kicks the ball. Too late, Arthur thinks, as the ball catches in the net. The other kid thought he could get there in time but all he’s managed to do is slam against Mordred. The two kids drop on the ground, with Mordred underneath, and one of them cries out. Without learning who’s hurt, Arthur runs straight to the kids, his heart beating wildly. The referee reaches them before Arthur could and pulls the other kid off of Mordred. His son’s face is a mask of pain, his little hands clutching his ankle. He opens his eyes and immediately seeks Arthur’s. Once their eyes meet, Mordred cries out.

“Papa!”

He stumbles to a stop on his knees before Mordred, hardly believing what he just heard. However, he can’t dwell on it too much as Mordred’s in pain and he needs immediate attention. He gently pries off Mordred’s hands away from his ankle to assess the damage. It’s swollen, but not broken. Mordred is now clutching at his arms in pain and fear. “It’s alright, Mordred. Don’t worry, it’s just a sprain. We’ll take you to the hospital, and you’ll be fine in no time, I promise.”

“Papa…” Mordred whispers again. “It hurts, Papa.”

Arthur takes a deep breath. So, he didn’t mishear, then. His heart swells, and he no longer wants to fight it. He gathers the kid—his son—into his arms as they wait for the ambulance, all the while whispering, “It’s going to be alright, Mordred…Papa’s here. Papa's here.”


	11. Over the World to the End of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordred is hurt, and Arthur has to be the responsible father. Also, Merlin learns about Mordred's new word.

Gaius and Uther are competing to be the world’s best grandfather, from the sounds of things. Gaius is demanding that his grandson be inspected immediately, while Uther is pressing the hospital to give them the best doctor they have.

Hunith is scolding both men for being nuisances.

The noise doesn’t penetrate Arthur’s brain. He’s too busy holding _his son_. Mordred hasn’t let go of him since they left for the hospital, and Arthur doesn’t want to let go of him. This must be what having a child feels like—the need to protect them for every second of everyday, the commitment to keep them happy and unhurt all the time, the feeling of never wanting to let go. He breathes deeply, taking in the smell of antiseptic and Mordred’s baby shampoo.

“Mr. Pendragon?” a tall, pretty woman in a nurse’s scrubs stops calls out. “We’re ready for your son.”

_Your son. His son._

He gets up, carrying Mordred, and follows the nurse to one of the rooms. He lays Mordred down on the bed, and makes to leave despite wanting to stay, but Mordred clutches his shirt tightly. “Papa! Don’t leave me. It hurts.” Then proceeds to give Arthur the biggest puppy eyes ever seen.

He looks at the nurse as he pets Mordred’s head; the nurse smiles at him. “I’m sure Doctor Fitzpatrick wouldn’t mind.”

Arthur smiles down at the kid. “Hear that, Mordred, she’s letting me stay. So don’t worry, now, and be good to your doctor, alright?”

Mordred sniffles, but nods his head. He burrows his face deep into Arthur’s belly as the doctor enters the room.

Arthur keeps a steady stream of encouraging words plus a bribe of ice cream later as Doctor Fitzpatrick inspects and compresses Mordred’s ankle sprain in bandages. The blond lets out a relieved breath as the doctor announces “done!” with a smile.

“Thank you for being such a strong and brave boy, Mordred.” Doctor Fitzpatrick turns to Arthur. “Just return after a week to see how it goes. The nurse will tell you how to change the bandages and how to keep them dry.” With that, Doctor Fitzpatrick leaves.

“We’re done, Mords. You were fantastic!” The boy gives him a watery smile. The pretty nurse comes back, along with a wheelchair. Arthur listens carefully to her instructions and a reminder to get Mordred’s antibiotics and bandages at the hospital pharmacy. Arthur flicks his head towards the door. “Hey, is it okay if you stay here for a while with the nurse?” he asks Mordred. “Papa just needs to sign some things out there.”

With Mordred’s nod, Arthur slips out of the room and heads to the nurses’ station. After learning that Uther and Gaius handled everything and they just need his signature, he goes to the waiting area to tell everybody that Mordred can go home. He reaches the waiting area and finds Freya sitting in front of a quiet Hunith and an even quieter Gaius. Uther, he notices, looks like he’s been sucking on a lemon. Leon is looking at the floor, while Morgana is downright glaring at the other woman.

“Arthur,” Hunith rises from his seat. “Freya here just arrived.”

Freya stands up as well and faces Arthur, although with ice in her eyes. She never did like Arthur, even when she was pregnant with Mordred, and even more so now that he’s married to Merlin. In fact, she turns stiff every time Merlin leaves her with Arthur in the room during her Mum Visits. “How’s my son?” she asks, her words as rigid as her posture.

“Mordred is fine,” he reports, thought mostly he looks at Hunith and Gaius. “He’s ready to go home, actually.”

Hunith, Gaius, and Uther, Morgana, and Leon all smile. Freya looks relieved. “Good. Now, I can take him home.”

“Excuse me?” Morgana exclaims, causing Leon to put a hand on her shoulder. Hunith, Gaius, and Uther all look gobsmacked.

“He’s my son.” Freya raises her chin.

“Freya,” Arthur says patiently. “How did you know Mordred has been hurt?”

“He’s _my son_ ,” Freya repeats instead of answering the question.

Arthur steels his gaze on the woman. “Freya, you are not allowed to see him beyond the visits, you know that. Were you watching the game?”

“I was on my way to the store when I saw Mordred out on the field,” she stammers out.

“You live in the other side of the city.”

“I’m going to take him home. _He’s my son!_ ”

“Actually, you can’t.” Arthur informs her, being smug about it without showing the other woman. He’s a professional, after all. “You will find that Merlin named me as guardian to Mordred, and that I, and only I, am allowed to take him home.” He pauses and thinks about it. “Well, Hunith and Gaius are allowed, too, but that’s an entirely different matter.

“This is a violation on the contract that you signed with Merlin and you also know that. I’ll gladly forget about this and not call Merlin’s lawyer if you would just leave quietly. I was planning on calling to tell you about the accident once we got Mordred home safely, but you chose to do it this way. You can’t see him, Freya, and I’m sorry.”

Just then, Mordred’s nurse arrives, not noticing the tension in the room. She smiles at Arthur. “The little hero is asking for his Papa.”

He hears Freya gasp and winces, praying that she doesn’t make a scene.

Of course, the gods probably think that he deserves some punishment for all the fooling around he did prior to marriage.

“I see how it is,” Freya’s cool voice brings him back to the present. “Has this been your plan all along? No wonder you won’t let me see my son! You want him for your own, didn’t you?”

“Freya, Merlin decided that you can’t see your son more than the allowed visits, not me. And you know he only did it because you abandoned them right after giving birth,” he states calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

Freya just laughs derisively. “Right, as if you don’t have Merlin’s ear. Even all those years ago, you couldn’t wait to get me out of the picture so that you can have Merlin! You wanted me gone!”

Arthur puts up a hand in a gesture of surrender, trying to calm down Freya. The nurses are all staring at them in silence. “That’s not true, and you know it. Freya, why don’t you just leave, alright?” He glances at Leon in silent communication. The other man nods and tries to lead Freya out the door.

“No!” Freya shakes off Leon’s hands. “I will not leave without my son! You might have succeeded in getting Merlin, but I will die before you get Mordred!”

“Freya, this is getting ridiculous. You left them, not me. And all I did is love Merlin and Mordred. That had nothing to do with you. And I had no hand in your leaving them.” But Freya is not listening, just staring wildly at Arthur while slapping Leon’s hands away.

“Let go of me!” Freya shouts at Leon.

Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose. This has to stop before the situation gets even more out of control. He knows what he should do, but he loathes being the one to do it. However, he’s Mordred’s guardian, what with Merlin being out of the fucking country, and he can’t have Freya following the boy. “Father,” he turns to Uther, “please call security and have them escort Ms. Anderson out of the hospital.” He sees Uther nod, not even bothered that his son just gave him an order like an ordinary assistant. He then turns to Morgana. “Call our lawyers, the number’s in my phone. Tell them that Freya just violated her contract and we have reason to suspect stalking on her part.”

He then turns to Freya, who is now being held by two burly guards. “I’m sorry Freya, but your visitation rights have just been revoked due to what happened here today. Our lawyers will get in touch with your lawyer as soon as possible.” He nods at the guards, and they take her away. Freya’s shouts can be heard from down the hall.

He walks towards Mordred’s room, pasting a smile on his face so as not to worry the boy. He enters the room and sees Mordred giggling with his nurse. Upon seeing him, the nurse approaches him and whispers. “I went back here as soon as she made a scene. Didn’t want to leave him alone here. Things could happen.”

“Often see stuff like that, do you?”

Her lips are set on a tight line as she nods. “It can…upset the child. I made sure Mordred didn’t hear anything.” She points at the television playing some kind of cartoon show.

He nods. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Mordred is a sweet boy.” With one last smile, she heads out the door.

“Mordred,” the boy takes his eyes away from the television, “want to go home?”

The boy nods. “But you promised ice cream.”

He chuckles at the terrific memory of the kid. “Yes, I did. If we get a move on now, I’ll let you have two scoops. How does that sound?”

“Okay!” Mordred lifts his hands to Arthur, asking to be picked up. As Arthur carries Mordred down the hall, the boy asks. “Papa?”

“Yes, Mordred?”

“I love you, Papa.”

He stops walking to look down at the kid. His eyes are bright and he’s smiling. Arthur’s heart gets caught in his throat. Two revelations in one day, he thinks as he gives Mordred a smile, perhaps the gods don’t hate him after all. He squeezes Mordred tight as he says, “I love you too, Mords.”

 

\-----=====-----

 

Once everybody is gone and Mordred is settled in front of the telly, Arthur calls his husband. Merlin picks up his phone after several rings, with worry in his voice. They have agreed to only call his personal phone during emergencies, so Merlin gets straight to the point.

“ _Arthur, is everything alright?_ ”

“Merlin, don’t be alarmed. Mordred had an accident in the field this afternoon.”

“ _What happened? Is he alright?_ ”

“Yes, he’s fine. Just a sprained ankle. A kid from the other team wasn’t able to stop running in time, he crashed into Mordred. We had to take him to the hospital, but he’s fine. He’s in bandages, and we have to take him back to the doctor after a week. He was very brave about it.”

He hears Merlin give a relieved sigh. It is a few moments more before Merlin speaks again.

“ _Fuck, Arthur…_ ”

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry it happened. Your mom, Gaius, Morgana, and Leon were also there at the hospital, so they made sure I didn’t screw up anything.”

Merlin huffs. “ _I know you wouldn’t, Arthur. I trust you with my son’s life._ ” A pause. “ _How is he? Can I talk to him?_ ”

“Uh, yeah, he’s watching cartoons. You can talk to him. But there’s something else.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Freya.”

Telling Merlin about the incident with Freya this afternoon is not easy, but he trudges on. Merlin needs to know.

“ _Shit…Goddammit, Freya._ ”

“I know.”

“ _Do you think she’s…taking again?_ ”

“…I don’t—Dammit, I can’t say. She seemed lucid enough, although she didn’t hesitate to show the world that she hated my guts.”

“ _I’m sorry about that, Arthur. You didn’t deserve that._ ”

“It’s alright. I was more worried for Mordred than myself. Merlin, she watched Mordred’s game without permission. She followed us to the hospital. I was—fuck—I was scared for Mordred.”

“ _You were right to call the lawyers, Arthur. Shit, I really want to be there._ ”

“Look, I can take care of Mordred, alright? No need to cut your trip short because of this.”

Merlin chuckles. “ _My son’s been reporting that your cooking is getting better._ ”

He’s glad that Merlin can’t see him right now, because he’s blushing to the roots of his hair. “It’s nothing.”

“ _And I’m not cutting my trip short because I think you’re a shabby guardian, Arthur. I…I want to see my son. I miss him._ ” He pauses, and Arthur waits with bated breath.“ _And I miss you._ ”

Arthur swallows the lump in his throat. “I miss you, too. Um, we miss you, too.”

For a few moments, neither of them speak, Arthur reveling in Merlin’s admission. Merlin breaks the silence by clearing his throat.

“ _So, it’s too late now to take fly back; I want to be well rested for Mordred. But I’ll call Gaius now and ask him to replace me for next week’s meetings. I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. How does that sound?_ ”

If Merlin can find it in himself to easily admit to missing Arthur, then Arthur can take the plunge and give a confession himself, dammit. “I can’t wait,” he says with as much warmth as he could give. Without waiting for a response, he says, “I’ll give the phone to Mordred now.”

 

\-----=====-----

 

“ _I can’t wait._ ”

Merlin sucks in a breath at that and wills his brain to stop thinking about sex and Arthur. Good thing Arthur immediately hands the phone over to Mordred before he can say anything stupid like “I love you.”

“ _Hi, Daddy!_ ”

“Hi, Mordred. How are you? Arthur tells me you were a brave boy today.”

“ _Yup! I got scared of the hospital, but Doctor Fiz…Fiz—the doctor was very nice and he told me I did great! Then Papa took us all out for ice cream._ ”

Wait, what? “Papa?” he repeats.

“Yup! He said I was a good, brave boy so I got to have two scoops of ice cream! That’s okay, right, Daddy?”

His mind is still reeling at the revelation. Mordred just called Arthur ‘Papa.’

Arthur is ‘Papa.’

“ _Daddy?_ ”

His son’s voice breaks into his thoughts.

“Mordred, where’s Arthur?”

“ _In the kitchen. Want me to call him?_ ”

“No, no, that’s alright. Uh, I just want to ask you something.”

“ _Okay._ ”

“When…uh, when did you start calling Arthur ‘Papa?’”

“What do you mean?”

Merlin takes his phone away from his ear, and taps it twice on his forehead. This should be handled delicately, but his heart is racing. He puts the phone back to hear Mordred calling his name.

“ _Daddy?_ ”

“I mean, how did you know to call Arthur ‘Papa?’ Did somebody teach you to do that?”

“ _No. Teacher Jamie asked me why I call Arthur my ‘other Daddy.’ He says it’s con-con—it jumbles his head. Then Nancy called her daddy ‘Papa,’ so I call Arthur ‘Papa’ so it’s not jumbling in the head anymore._ ”

Merlin doesn’t know whether to laugh or weep. Mordred goes from Uncle Arthur to Papa in a matter of months, and Merlin didn’t even see it coming. He should have known that they both would be stupid enough to fall in love with Arthur Pendragon without even meaning to. Gods. Like father, like son.

“ _Daddy?_ ”

“I’m here, Mordred,” he says, his breath shaking slightly.

“ _Are you coming home, then?_ ”

“Yes, Mordred, I’m coming home. I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. In the meantime, be a good boy for Arthur, alright?”

“ _Okay, Daddy. I love you!_ ”

“I love you, too.”

 

\-----=====-----

 

Merlin is just about to settle down for the night when there’s a knock on his door. He frowns. The front desk didn’t ring up, he didn’t order anything, and he already told Arthur the details of his flight. Must have gotten the wrong door, then.

He opens the door, expecting to help a lost bellboy, when he finds himself face-to-face with Freya.

“Merlin,” she says.

“Freya. What are you doing here? How’d you even get up here?”

Freya shrugs. “I told them you were my husband.”

“Dammit, Freya…” Freya steps forward to enter the suite, but he blocks the way with a hand. “Leave, Freya. I have nothing to say to you.”

The woman doesn’t even listen, instead just ducks low and quick to get inside the room. Merlin curses. “Frey, leave now.”

“It’s been a while since you called me that,” Freya says as her eyes roam the suite.

Confused, Merlin glares at the woman. “What?”

“’Frey.’ You used to call me that all the time, remember? Now, you don’t call me that.”

He steps forward, meaning to lead the woman out of his hotel room. “Freya—“

“That bastard stole my son from me!”

Merlin takes a deep breath. So this is what it’s all about. Arthur. “Freya, you relinquished the right to Mordred the minute you left us. This isn’t Arthur’s fault, nor mine. And since you couldn’t see that clearly, we had no other choice but to tell the lawyers. I’m sorry, Freya. Now, you need to leave.” He turns to open the door.

“Merlin,” Freya says his name like it’s something precious, and he can tell that she’s crying now. “Merlin, please…”

He sighs as he faces her. “What?”

She surprises him by jumping into his arms and hugging him tight. Merlin instinctively brings his arms around Freya’s waist. “Merlin, please. I already lost you to Arthur. I can’t lose Mordred as well.”

He shuts his eyes because he doesn’t understand where all this is coming from. Couldn’t Freya understand that she was the one who left?

He feels something wet and soft pressing into his neck, and it takes a while for him to recognize them as Freya’s lips. He turns his head away and lets her go. “Freya, no. This isn’t right. Have you taken anything again? I’ll call your sponsor—“

“No, Merlin!” She struggles to get closer again, burrowing her face into his neck. “Please, don’t turn me away. I love you. Please. I still love you.”

As soon as she says that, Merlin’s blood runs cold. There was a time when he would have paid millions to hear Freya say that to him, a time when he dreamt that she came back and they become one big happy family. That time is long gone, and Merlin can only feel sorry for the lost and fragile woman she’s become. He shakes his head, and pushes her gently away from him.

“Freya, please…,” he says delicately, knowing that the simplest thing can set her off at any moment. “Why don’t you take a seat and open the telly? I’ll make you some tea, alright?”

She looks placated, so Merlin counts it as a win. Once he puts the electric kettle on, he detours to the bedroom to call Freya’s lawyer and tell him what happened.

 

\------=====-----

 

The moment he walks out of Heathrow, he breathes a sigh of relief. Freya’s sponsor and lawyer arrived early this morning along to take her back to London, and Merlin wrangled a promise from them to keep Freya in their sights at all time and to get her checked by a doctor.

“Daddy! Daddy!”

Merlin turns to the right to see Mordred sitting on Arthur’s wide shoulders, waving his arms about. His left ankle is bandaged, but he looks healthy and happy. He smiles and feels all the pent-up exhaustion leave his body. He waves back and walks towards his family.

“Down, Papa!” Mordred exclaims once Merlin is about an arm’s length away. Arthur gently takes Mordred off his shoulders and promptly hands him to Merlin, who drops his suitcase on the floor to catch his son.

There’s that word again. He sees Arthur stiffen, but Merlin looks away immediately. He fears that if he looks at Arthur any longer that the blond would see right through his weakening façade and realize that Merlin’s arse-over-tits in love with him. Merlin settles for nuzzling his son’s hair, much to the tickled delight of Mordred.

“How’s your trip?” Arthur asked once Mordred’s grin fades away.

He shrugs, not moving a lot so as not to jostle the kid in his arms. “It was alright. But I’m glad to be home.”

Arthur smiles, a gentle one. The kind which makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Good,” the blond says, “Because we missed you. Didn’t we, Mordred?”

“Yup!” Then, Mordred frowns as he looks at the two of them. “Papa? Aren’t you gunna kiss Daddy? Daddy always kisses Granma when she comes to visit us.”

Merlin blushes to the roots of hair, while Arthur just laughs out loud. “You’re right, Mords, I should kiss Daddy. How remiss of me, eh?”

Without further ado, Arthur puts an arm around Merlin’s waist, pulls him closer, child and all, and kisses him. It feels the same, but…more. Warmer, more passionate. And right now, Merlin can’t handle it. Not when he’s feeling this way. He ends the kiss with a murmured, “Not in front of Mordred.”

Arthur chuckles. “C’mon,” he flicks his head towards the waiting car, with—oh my god, Arthur—a driver standing about three feet from behind Arthur.

“Did you have to?” Merlin groans, gesturing towards the driver and the car. At least, it’s not a limo this time.

“Have you any idea how scared I am that Mordred’s going to fall off his chair at home? I wasn’t about to put him in a car when I’m so distracted! I don’t know how you did it, honestly. I now have a higher respect for single parents all over the world,” Arthur whispers vehemently.

He chuckles, but rolls his eyes as the driver takes his suitcase from the ground and leads them to the vehicle.

Once settled in the backseat with Mordred strapped in his car seat between the two of them, Merlin digs into his pocket and gives Mordred his souvenir. The child squeals as he sees the castanets, immediately clapping them together and showing them off to Arthur and the driver. Arthur and the driver chuckle and make all the necessary noises. The driver, though, obviously looks surprised to be included by the child. Just like that, warmth spread in Merlin’s chest with how proud he is of his son. He wouldn’t change him for the world.

Not even Freya and her apparently burgeoning emotional instability can dampen his spirits.

 

\-----====-----

 

Mordred is a ball of energy for the rest of the day, sprained ankle notwithstanding—showing Merlin his artwork for the last ten days, boasting Arthur’s fajitas to be the ‘bestest,’ playing with his new castanets—and Merlin stays attentive the entire time. He wonders at his son’s ability to enjoy the simplest of things. More than that, he also marvels at how close Mordred had gotten with Arthur.

“Daddy, Papa, look!” Mordred squeals excitedly as he shows Merlin and Arthur exactly how much noise he can make with his new castanets.

Arthur chuckles. “Alright, Mordred, that’s enough. It’s time to go to sleep. You can play again tomorrow.”

He looks at the clock above the telly. It’s already half past ten, and really, his son should have been in bed hours ago. Mordred frowns and crosses his arms across his small chest, a perfect imitation of Arthur when the blond doesn’t get his way. “But Daddy just got here and I missed him!”

Merlin is about to cut in, but Arthur beat him to it. “Daddy will still be here tomorrow morning, Mords. Look, how about we make your favorite blueberry pancakes tomorrow for Daddy, huh?”

Much to Merlin’s surprise, Mordred actually nods and walks over to him. “Daddy? Story?” Mordred mumbles, exhaustion catching up to him.

“Of course,” he says. He lifts his son up and carries him to his bedroom.

When did Arthur become such an expert on placating Mordred? This past week has given him plenty of revelations that are threatening to topple down his carefully-built walls. He’s certain there are already cracks in the stone.

“I didn’t ask him to call me that, you know,” Arthur says quietly, once Mordred is safely in bed. “Mordred. I didn’t ask him to call me Papa. I was as surprised as you probably were.”

“I know,” Merlin whispers.

They don’t speak for a while. Merlin knows that Arthur’s brain is working on something; he can almost hear the gears shifting in his head.

“Are you angry?” Merlin murmurs. Because yes, it’s one thing to marry your best friend and it’s another thing for you and your best friend to fall into bed as if you’ve done it for years. But having your son call your best friend ‘papa?’ That’s an entire dimension of awkward that can make circumstances more difficult for Merlin and Arthur.

“No, of course not. I…I’m proud to have Mordred as a son, even without the proper papers.”

That surprises Merlin. Arthur is not selfish, but he’s not the commitment type either. He beds them and leaves them, as Uther always says. Yet here he is, declaring that he’s glad to be Mordred’s ‘Papa.’

It doesn’t compute in Merlin’s mind.

“Why?” Merlin asks, before his brain can catch up to his mouth. And he closes his eyes in horror at what he just said. But Arthur opens his mouth before he can take back what he said.

“Merlin,” Arthur looks at him, eyes boring into his, “you know why.”

“Do I?” He challenges the blond.

Arthur turns away from him then, his jaw visibly clenching. He runs a hand through his beautiful, beautiful hair before looking back at Merlin.

“You never do as I ask.”

Merlin scowls at the non-sequitur. “What?”

“You never do as I ask. When I pulled a prank on you during year four, you retaliated the week after. You pushed me to the gutter because I hid Morgana’s doll.”

“Arthur, you’re not making much sense.”

“Aren’t I? Because from my point of view, I’m making perfect sense. Because while I was busy getting drunk during our first year in uni, you were busy telling me of the consequences of my actions. You remember that time I failed to do my project for my management class because I was too preoccupied with all the parties? The only thing that saved me from a failing grade and a highly disappointed father is your making the analysis for me the night before the deadline. I was too scared the day the results came out that I almost missed the passing grade I got. And I wouldn’t have passed without your help. I thanked you for that, but you looked so disappointed in me that I left quickly. I didn’t want to see that look on your face again.”

“Arthur—“

“And that’s when everything shifted. That’s when I realized that your opinions mattered to me more than my father’s. I took studying seriously after that. Did you know that you were part of the reason why I told him I was bi? Even with the thought of being disowned loomed over me, I went through with it as I knew that I could go to your Uncle’s place if it ends badly. I passed uni with flying colors, and your stupidly proud face was the one that made it all worthwhile.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but Arthur is suddenly close, so close.

“Shut up, Merlin. You don’t get to speak. You ask me why? You idiot, you clumsy, _oblivious_ idiot. I almost told you, did you know? But Freya came. And you seemed so _happy_. I buried myself in every person who even showed a slight interest in me in retaliation. When she left, I knew it was too soon; you were grieving with a baby in your hands. I couldn’t do that to you.” Arthur puts a palm on his cheek and a thumb on his lips, keeping him quiet. “When my father told me that I had to get married to keep the company, the only person I was willing to consider being tied to was you. I used my father’s will as the impetus I needed to finally tell you how I feel, but I was scared. I’m always a coward when it comes to you.

“I love waking up to see you beside me, sleeping in my bed, making a Merlin-sized hole where there used to be air. I love hearing Mordred’s laugh when I make him pancakes. Helping you put Mordred to bed is easily the best part of my day, and when we sleep…The only thing that keeps me from pulling you close each night is my stubborn insistence that you deserve better than me. And yet I can’t stop myself from making love to you.” Arthur huffs out a derisive laugh, shaking his head as if he can’t believe his own idiocy. “And when we make love…it feels so natural. And nothing feels better than to have you in my arms.”

Merlin is without words. Arthur’s eyes are piercing his, keeping him right where he is. Keeping him silent.

“I meant every word I said: I’m proud to have Mordred as a son, and I am willing to go through the proper channels if I have to to make it all legal. And I am proud to have as my husband, because you are smart and funny and caring and I do not deserve you or your son. And when I said my vows, I meant them and I will gladly repeat them to get through that thick skull of yours. And I love you, Merlin. God knows why, but I do.”

He’s stunned. His breath is caught somewhere in his throat, and the air around him is suddenly still. He can hear Arthur breathing, but it seems far away. Emotions and thoughts go through his brain, and he takes a moment to process everything.

He heard Arthur, yes, but he’s still working on the believing part. Arthur has always seemed so solid, so put-together, that all these emotional turmoil is new to Merlin.

But he’s glad that he’s not the only one.

He never considered Arthur because he knew he didn’t stand a chance. He trained himself to be content to stay friends with the prat that he got used to it by the time they graduated from Uni. He kept everything behind a wall so thick that nothing could penetrate it, save for the late night talks that he and Arthur always have. He’s guarded his secret well.

And here is Arthur telling him that he’s suffered for the exact same reasons. He wants to laugh in relief.

He opens his mouth to reciprocate, but he must have taken too long, because Arthur is now putting on his coat and shoes.

“Wha—where are you going?” Merlin is in a panic. Is Arthur changing his mind? Has he made a mistake?

“Look,” Arthur declares as he straightens up the collar of his coat, “you don’t have to say anything. I get it. I do. I knew—“ The blond sighs, and Merlin reads the word ‘fuck’ fall silently from Arthur’s lips before he faces Merlin again. “I know that you love Freya, alright? So, I get it. I just—I need to—I can’t be here right now.”

Arthur opens the door, but Merlin rushes forward just in time to slam it close. “No. I am not letting you get away after all that.”

“Merlin, I really, _really_ , don’t want to be here right now. Let’s just talk about this tomorrow.” Merlin can see sadness in Arthur’s eyes, and he smiles kindly at his husband.

“You don’t even want to hear what I have to say?” he counters, because there will never be a time when he won’t challenge the prat.

“Merlin—“

“I love you, too, you know.”

Arthur rests his forehead against the door, looking defeated, which confuses Merlin. Shouldn’t Arthur be as happy as Merlin right now?

“You don’t have to say—“

“Oh my god. All that talking must have damaged your brain pretty hard if you can’t even understand three simple words, Arthur.” The blond glares at him, but at least he’s looking at him now, so Merlin grins. “I love you.”

Arthur frowns, then snaps his head up so suddenly that he nearly knocks against Merlin’s chin. “You mean that?”

“Of course I mean it, you clotpole.” Arthur grins, his smile so wide that Merlin catches himself smiling too. “Now, we have to kiss to seal the deal. And maybe I just might let Mordred keep on calling you ‘Papa.’”

Arthur laughs, then swoops in to seal the deal. He is a good businessman after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is finally done! Thanks for all the support and comments and likes! And somebody commented on some proper British words, and rest assured that I will clean this up nicely for you all. Again, comments are appreciated!


	12. In Which Merlin is Constantly Surprised

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin doesn't realize how lucky he is.

Merlin wakes up to the sound of Mordred laughing. He smiles. Having the kid happy is perhaps his greatest achievement to date. He feels the space next to him and notes the absence of a warm body. So Arthur must be up, then.

After a shower, he finds his husband and his son in the kitchen, with Mordred stirring the pancake batter while Arthur busies himself with opening a couple of jars of blueberries. He takes a moment to watch them. They move like clockwork, knowing where the other is, and how much space they have. It’s as if this is a routine they’ve done countless times before.

There's a pretty good chance they have.

"Good morning," he says, surprising both Arthur and Mordred.

"Daddy!" Mordred exclaims with a grin. "You're not supposed to be up yet! It's a surprise!"

Merlin laughs, causing Arthur to chuckle too. He walks over to Mordred to kiss the child's head, before moving to stand behind Arthur, wrapping his arms around the blond. "Don't worry, Mords, I'm pretty surprised."

The child ponders that for a bit before nodding. "Okay. But you can't help. Papa says this is a 'thank you.'"

Arthur stiffens, so Merlin kisses his nape to tell him that, yes, Mordred calling you ‘Papa’ is okay. He laughs again and nods. "Okay. But if anybody needs me, I'll be in the sitting room, watching cartoons." The two of them nod, then turn back to their respective tasks, ignoring Merlin completely. "I'm serious, I'm walking away now. You can't stop me."

Mordred looks up, giggles, then exclaims, "Daddy, go!"

He chuckles as the laughter follows him to the sitting room.

 

==========

 

There’s a PTA meeting at Mordred’s day care, and Merlin is sitting in one of those small chairs meant for toddlers. He’s waiting for Teacher Jaime to finish his meeting with Deborah Easton’s father as he keeps an eye on Mordred playing with his friends. He’s making mental notes about tomorrow’s meeting with the web content team about the website’s relaunch, when a shadow covers him. He looks up to see Arthur’s smiling face.

“Arthur? What are you doing here?” he frowns. Perhaps something happened at the office? Arthur’s been complaining about Uther calling the office multiple times to demand information about their latest projects and developments. Perhaps the blond has gotten tired of it.

The smile on Arthur’s face falls, however. “Uh, the meeting with Teacher Jaime? Um, the note has been on our fridge for a week, and I’ve had George schedule some free time so I can come here, and I know that I’m not really his father, so perhaps I should have talked to you about it first instead of just dropping by, I’m sorry…“

Oh. Arthur went to the PTA meeting _on purpose_? Merlin stops and watches, like really watches, his husband. The blond is still rambling—with his cheeks blushing and his eyes staring at the floor—that Merlin feels guilt and love warring inside him. Arthur is interested in Mordred’s development as much as he is, and really, can he ask for more than a husband that loves his son as much as he does?

“…look, I just thought, you know, that perhaps I can come here too? And Teacher Jaime made a point to tell me about the meeting last week when I dropped Mordred off, and I know I should have ran it by you first, but I thought—“

“Arthur,” he interrupts, before the blond becomes even more embarrassed. “I’m glad you’re here.”

The grin Arthur throws his way has him blushing as well. So he leans in to give his husband a kiss.

 

\----------==========----------

 

Merlin enters his office after an important meeting with the board to find his cellphone ringing on his desk. It’s Arthur.

“Arthur?”

“ _Merlin, I’m glad I caught you. I’m on my way to the day care to pick up Mordred._ ”

He frowns, worry starting to build in his chest. “Why? What happened?”

“ _Teacher Jaime says Mordred’s not feeling well. They called you but you weren’t answering your phone, so they called me instead._ ”

“Oh. Um, give me a few minutes and I can be there--”

“ _No need,_ ” Arthur cuts in. “ _Like I said, I’m already on my way. And I know you have meetings today, so…_ ” That is true. But still, his son is more important. Somehow picking up on his train of thought, Arthur adds, “ _Merlin, don’t worry about it, alright? I can pick up Mordred and get him home safely. He’s probably just running a fever. I’ll call you immediately once I see him, okay?_ ”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“ _Of course. Just keep your phone with you at all times._ ”

“Okay.”

“ _See you at home._ ” A pause. “ _Love you._ ”

Huh. That was different. Merlin can even hear the slight hesitation in Arthur’s voice. “Love you too,” he replies before cutting off the connection.

He smiles.

 

\----------==========----------

 

"Hey," Arthur whispers to his ear. They are spending the weekend in the Emrys' family home in Ealdor because Hunith wanted to see her grandson without interruptions. As of the moment, Hunith is tucking in Mordred, not minding them at all.

"Come," Arthur tugs at his sleeve.

Merlin looks up from the book he was reading in confusion. Arthur's face is that of pure excitement. He looks around the empty library and doesn't see anything to get excited about.

"What, Arthur?"

"Come on." Arthur grabs his hand and tugs him up quite forcefully, making him drop his book on the couch he was sitting on.

He follows Arthur through the living room and through the hallway to get their coats. After shoving him into his jacket, Arthur leads him out the house.

"Arthur, where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," Arthur replies simply. "And I've told Hunith where we're going."

"It's not Paris again, is it?" He asks with a laugh, but secretly yearning for a repeat of that magical week.

"Not Paris. I couldn't come up with something like that on such short notice."

They round a bend, away from town. So, they're not going to the pub, then. After another block, Arthur stops. They're between two houses that Merlin doesn't recognise. He looks around for his surprise while Arthur digs into his pocket.

"Alright, I don't see any surprise here."

Arthur just rolls his eyes. "It's not here, _Mer_ lin." Then Arthur pulls out a red bandanna from his pocket before smirking at him.

"A blindfold? What are you, twelve? No." Merlin crosses his arms in defiance.

"Oh, come on," Arthur replies, unperturbed. "It'll be fun."

"That's easy for you to say; you're not the one being blindfolded," he grumbles, but nods nonetheless.

Arthur's breath is warm on his neck as the blond secures the blindfold. His husband turns him a bit before saying, "Okay, we'll just walk straight for a bit."

He follows Arthur's directions, and soon they're going uphill. Merlin can't tell where they are. Ealdor is surrounded by small hills, a mountain, and a cave, all of which could be their destination.

"We're here," Arthur whispers after a while.

Arthur takes off his blindfold and it takes Merlin a moment to clear his vision. And what he sees makes him smile.

There’s a picnic blanket on top of the hill, with a bucket of iced champagne and two champagne flutes beside it. He turns to Arthur. “What is this?” he asks.

His husband shrugs. “I just thought it would be nice to look at the stars for a while.”

He grins, dragging Arthur to the blanket. As they lay down, Merlin thanks his lucky stars.

 

\----------==========----------

 

It is by accident that Merlin finds the website.

Merlin's laptop dies while he's writing an email to the marketing department, and be can't doesn't want to bother searching for his charger, so he opens Arthur's laptop instead. It sparks to life then demands the password before giving him access.

And that's when he finds it.

Arthur's browser is open on a family law webpage. Specifically, the part about child adoption.

Merlin stares. Arthur hadn't mentioned adoption again after that first time, so Merlin considered it as a passing thought, one that would not come up again in conversation. But this, this is different. This is commitment.

He's not doubting Arthur when he said that he loves them both. Merlin is just…wary. The longest relationship that Arthur has had is with Sophia, and that was only because the blond was stubborn and didn’t want to admit that Uther was right about the woman being a gold digger. So forgive him if he wakes up every day thinking that he’s fallen into an alternate universe where Arthur loves him and will stay with him until the day they die.

Somebody clears his throat behind him, and Merlin turns the swivel chair to see Arthur, arms across his chest and leaning against the doorframe.

Merlin blushes at being caught looking at Arthur’s laptop. “I wasn’t snooping, I swear,” he clarifies immediately, not wanting Arthur to think that Merlin’s been spying on him or something. “I just needed to send an email.”

Arthur says nothing; he just grabs another chair to sit next to Merlin. “I was going to ask you first, you know, about how you feel about me adopting Mordred.”

“Oh,” Merlin replies. How does he feel about it?

Here is Arthur, a man who swears that he has no parental bone in his body, yet who’s always been ready to take care of Mordred when the need calls for it. Here’s Arthur asking him if it’s alright to include Mordred in his family, whereas Mordred’s own mother didn’t want to be in the family and only wanted her son back when she found competition. Is there even a doubt of how Merlin feels about that?

Merlin cups Arthur’s cheek. “I think that it’s a brilliant idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Marriage Morning by Lord Alfred Tennyson. This fic is unbetaed, so all mistakes (names, Britishisms, etc) are mine.


End file.
